


My Own Private Ossan

by RetroLizard



Category: Togainu no Chi
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroLizard/pseuds/RetroLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of you might have seen that thing going around about a (real) Japanese website where you can rent a middle-aged man for 1,000 yen an hour...well, it wound up inspiring this fic about my OTP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you might feel I've changed Akira's personality here. Staying true to characters' personalities matters a lot to me, so I want to defend whatever decisions I make in handling them. This takes place in a universe where Akira had a normal, healthy childhood, not one where he was taken from his parents, experimented on, and forced to become a soldier at a young age. I think he's still the same Akira; introverted, blunt when speaking to people, but his upbringing brought out some personality traits more and others less. He's a product of his environment; just try to keep that in mind!

_What the hell could I have been thinking?_ he kept asking himself. _This was a really, really dumb idea._ Akira's stomach had twisted itself into a nervous knot as he stood waiting by the train station. Those sort of thoughts repeated themselves in his head with increasing frequency as he glanced at the time (again, for about the 14th time that minute). The best answer he could come up with was that he hadn't been thinking at all, and that wasn't too far off from the truth. People make weird decisions at 3 A.M. when they're depressed.

He'd come across an unusual webitse last night when he couldn't sleep; he thought it was a joke at first, but it was for real. 'Rent your own middle aged man for just 1,000 yen an hour!' Rent a middle aged man? Whatever for? Whatever you need, apparently, within reason of course. Need someone to run errands for you? Accompany you somewhere? Maybe just hang out with you and listen to your problems? We've got just the right guy for you!

It was almost enough for Akira to laugh at himself, at how lonely he'd become. He must've been so desperate to not spend yet another weekend of dreadful boredom with himself that it seemed like a good idea at the time. As the time of their meeting drew ever closer, Akira thought he might throw up from anxiousness, yet he felt after making the appointment, it would be too rude to back out now. What could he do?

"Excuse me." A voice made the young man's heart jump right into his throat. He spun his head and recognized the face from the picture he'd seen last night. There'd been several choices and he hadn't put a whole lot of thought into it, just clicked the first one that caught his attention. "Would you happen to be Akira?"

The man standing before him was rather tall and well-built. Shaggy brown hair, stubble along his jawline. Definitely a looker for a so-called "middle-aged man". Akira nodded wordlessly, to which the man smiled. "I'm Motomi. Pleasure to meet you."

Akira nodded again. "Mm, nice to meet you," he replied in a small voice. Talking to people was never his strong point, particularly to those he didn't know. His stiff posture probably made it clearer than day how uncomfortable he was, but if Motomi noticed, he didn't show it.

"So, what do you want to do today?" There was the question Akira dreaded the most. He'd spent so much time being a nervous wreck he hadn't given much thought to what, if anything he actually had in mind.

"I don't know," he answered quietly after a pause. "I'll be honest..." He gulped. "I'm, uhh...I'm not really sure why I did this."

Motomi cocked his head ever so slightly, but seemed otherwise unperturbed. "Hmm, is that so?"

"Yeah," Akira continued with a self-deprecating laugh. "I, uh, just kinda found the website randomly last night, and um, you know, it just sorta sounded like a good idea." He felt he had to fill the silence, even though he wasn't really saying anything. Few things bothered him more than awkward silences.

"Oh. Why's that?" Motomi prodded. It threw Akira off how calm he was; he was used to his awkwardness rubbing off on others a little bit, or at least making them look at him strangely.

"Well....uh..." He rubbed at the back of his neck, thinking. Why, indeed? "Having someone to talk to, I guess. Having someone listen to what's on your mind. It just sounds really nice." He'd just said the first answer he could come up off the top of his head, but it actually made perfect sense, once he said it, why he'd signed up in the first place.

"Yeah, that's true," Motomi said, looking up as he spoke. "I think that's what draws people to the business, you know?" He stuck his hands in his coat pockets and shrugged. "Well, I'm a good listener, if that's what you want. It's what I'm here for, after all." Akira nodded slowly. He looked down at his feet, trying to come up with a response. His arms were crossed, hands clutching at his sleeves tightly.

"Yeah, okay," he finally said softly. That was it. That was the best he could come up with.

"Any place you want to go?" Motomi asked, calmness still heavily in contrast with Akira's current state. Akira's mind frantically brainstormed as he tried to think of nearby places within walking distance.

"How about the amusement park?" was the first thing to pop out of his mouth. _What a dumb idea_ , he thought immediately afterward, but Motomi nodded.

"Sounds good! Ready?" His shoulders turned slightly as he made to go, and Akira followed. He obviously knew the area, as he was heading in the right direction.

\---

"Tell me a little about yourself, Akira," Motomi asked as they walked side by side.

"Uhh..." He hesitated. "There's not a whole lot to tell, I'm not very interesting," he mumbled, pulling up at the collar of his jacket. It was colder than he expected, almost enough that he should've worn a scarf.

"I'm sure that's not true." Motomi looked him up and down. "What do you do?"

"Hmm?" Having been staring off into space, Akira looked at him like he'd snapped out of a daze.

"Your _occupation_ , kid. What do you do?"

"Ah...I'm a student. Tokyo Tech."

"No kidding? Well, that's something. How's it going?"

"It's going well," Akira muttered in a tone that clearly said it wasn't.

"Really," Motomi replied dryly, obviously not buying it.

"Well..." Akira looked up. The sky was solid gray, not one cloud or stray beam of sunshine to be seen. "I haven't made a single friend since I've been here."

"Really? None?" Akira nodded. The street noises and the sound of the sidewalk under their shoes suddenly seemed very loud as his voice fell silent for a moment. Admitting it to someone else had made that same sinking feeling he had last night start to come back.

"I had a best friend in high school," he finally continued. "Keisuke...but he went to Osaka U, so I don't see him much anymore." He glanced sideways; Motomi watched him so intently as he spoke. He wasn't used to that. "I've never really been good at meeting people, and I didn't think about it much when he was around, but lately, it's kinda..."

"...yeah?"

Akira sighed. He'd forgotten how exhausting it was to converse with another human being for this long. "Kinda depressing. I don't even want to be friends with a lot of people, honestly, it would just be nice to have... _some_ one."

Motomi 'mmm'ed thoughtfully. "I know it doesn't usually help any to hear this, but I know how you feel." Akira looked at his face. He didn't detect pity, nor apathy. He didn't quite know what to make of this man and he sure as hell didn't know why he kept spilling his guts to him. "Do you still talk to this Keisuke guy?"

"Yeah...we're both pretty busy, but we talk when we can."

"Then that's not so bad," Motomi said with a smile. They both looked up at the large sign denoting the entrance to the amusement park. As they stopped, Motomi pulled a case of cigarettes out of his breast pocket. "You smoke?"

Akira blinked at him, then shook his head.

"Good, don't start," he muttered as he put it in his mouth and lit it.

Akira stared off at nothing for a few moments, then looked back to Motomi. His mind was still on what they'd just been talking about. "Hey, d'you..." he began slowly.

"Hmm?"

"...You said you knew how I felt, so...how did you deal with it?"

Motomi shrugged. "Wish I had a good answer for that. Best you can do is remind yourself it's not permanent. You'll meet someone you connect with sooner or later." Not long after that he crushed his not-quite-finished cigarette underfoot, and Akira couldn't help but think it was roughly equivalent to throwing money on the ground. They got in line for their tickets (which would be at Akira's expense, naturally).

\---

As they entered the park together Akira suddenly got the feeling that he was, for all practical purposes, on a date with a likely 40-something-year-old man. He became extremely self conscious at the thought, imagining what an odd-looking pair the two must've made. He tried to think up a conversation topic to take his mind off it. "So, what about you?"

"Huh?"

"What do you do? Other than this, obviously. I figured you must have a regular job."

"You figured right." Motomi beamed. "I'm a sports writer. Maybe you've read me?" A realization seemed to come over his face. "Ahh, I forgot, no one your age reads these days." Akira glowered at him, as if he'd just been made fun of. The look only served to make Motomi laugh. "It's true though, isn't it?"

"Well no one reads the paper anymore anyway," Akira retorted. "It's a dying medium."

"That's what the internet is for, dummy," Motomi said, and ruffled Akira's hair lightly. The unexpectedly friendly gesture caught Akira off guard. Unable to think of a comeback, he turned his face in the other direction and pouted, earning more laughter from Motomi.

They strolled past the various attractions as Akira tried to decide what he wanted to do first. "Say, exactly how old are you?" Akira turned around.

"Huh? 22."

"Damn," Motomi sighed. "Crazy to think by your age I was married with a kid already." He gazed off nostalgically. "Not that you should be in a hurry yourself, or anything. It's better to wait, in fact."

"So you're married?" Akira inquired.

"I was." A quick answer.

"Oh." Akira wondered if he'd been divorced recently and figured it was best not to ask about it.

"Got any girls you like?" Motomi asked.

"Erm..." Akira racked his brain. It was pretty clear what the answer was, since he had to think on it so hard. In truth, he couldn't think of a girl he'd known in his entire life that he'd like enough to date. "Not really. None come to mind."

Motomi chuckled. "Think maybe you're being too particular?" The look he got from Akira was so cold, Motomi put his hands up in a mock defensive posture. "Just kidding, just kidding! Nothing wrong with that!" He rubbed at his chin, looking Akira up and down. "Surprising, though," he mumbled.

"What is?"

"That none of them come after you. You're young, good-looking, got a decent enough head on your shoulders, s'far as I can tell." Akira had to look away, feeling his face heat up.

"I don't know about all that," he stammered. "But uh, I think maybe I come off kinda...unapproachable." Motomi, arms crossed, tilted his head slightly as Akira spoke. "I've never been in like, a real relationship or anything like that."

Motomi's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

Akira had just admitted something that hardly anyone knew, other than of course Keisuke, and he'd momentarily forgotten the real weight of that confession. A 22-year-old that never had so much as one girlfriend, or even...

He suddenly became so self conscious, his stomach started to twist itself in knots again. "Uhh, s-so anyway," he looked about, "what should we do first?"

"Oh." Motomi glanced around as well. "That's really up to you. Whatever you want!" Before them were various stalls with games, and the first to catch his attention was the target-shooting game. He approached it and eyed the many prizes on display. Nothing he cared about, it seemed, until he saw _it_. An elusive item poised tantalizingly on the highest shelf. Akira's hands splayed on the counter as he leaned over it trying to get a better look, leaning so far he stood on tip-toe. Motomi looked at Akira's reaction, then followed the line of his gaze.

"What? You want that video game?"

Akira gulped. "It's the third installment in the series...it was only just released this week..." He caught sight of the sign that read '500 yen per play' and yanked his wallet out of his messenger bag without another moment's hesitation.

With both hands, he took hold of the small plastic gun the vendor handed him and aimed. Round white targets with concentric black circles and red dots at their centers moved across on a mechanized track. The closer to the center you hit, the more points you got. He had ten shots. He hadn't bothered to do the math to figure out how many points he needed per shot to have enough, but he figured it would be close to the maximum possible for such an expensive prize.

One eye clenched shut, he pulled the trigger. The BB had landed less than a centimeter from the outer edge of the target. The next shot was even worse, not hitting a target at all. Motomi laughed beside him. "No no, you're...here, like this." The taller man was behind him, correcting the way he held the gun. He moved Akira's arms slightly, showed him how to line up the sight. Akira was acutely aware of the way their bodies touched, how close Motomi's face was, and he didn't want to think about why it made his heart beat faster. He just didn't like being touched by people he didn't know, he told himself.

"There, try again." Akira pulled the trigger. Better this time, but still awful. By the time he'd fired all his shots he hadn't come remotely close to getting enough points.

"Ugh, pathetic," Akira sighed. "Guess I can only shoot in games, not in real life..."

"I'll give it a try." Motomi slapped 500 yen on the counter. He took aim with only one hand. As his targets scrolled across, he fired ten shots in perfectly-timed succession, landing ten dead-center bullseyes. Akira downright gaped at him. "I'll take that," Motomi said, pointing to the game on the top shelf.

"You...but...y...how..." Akira babbled incoherently.

"Here," Motomi said with a smile as he held out the shrink-wrapped case to Akira. He couldn't help but enjoy the look on the younger man's face; it was identical to a small child on Christmas morning.

"Th...thank you!!" Akira took it and bowed emphatically. "Thank you, thanks so much!!"

"Don't worry about it," Motomi said with a wave of his hand. After tucking his new possession safely away in his bag, Akira was about to ask him how he was so good at that when Motomi interrupted his thoughts by inquiring what he wanted to do next. Looking around, he realized it had been far too many years since he'd been on a roller coaster...

\---

It had taken a bit of convincing, but Motomi wound up going along with every single ride Akira wanted to go on that day (and by now it was starting to feel like they'd covered the whole damn park). After an especially gut-wrenching coaster, Akira laughed at the sight of his "date" doubling over. "Hey hey, you all right? Not gonna go and puke now, are you?" He patted Motomi's back.

"Yeah right," Motomi panted. "Gimme a little credit." When he looked back over his shoulder at Akira, he reflected back the smile he saw on the boy's face. Maybe due in part to riding on an adrenaline high, Akira was having a really good time; much better than he'd expected to have at the start. And what surprised him even more, and what he was trying not to think too hard about, was how much he was starting to like Motomi. He was...different, somehow, Akira thought. He didn't give Akira those weird looks most people gave him when he was showing his lack of social graces or stumbling over his words. He couldn't find any judgement in his eyes. Or, maybe that was just how Akira over-analyzed things, but he couldn't ignore the simple fact that he _liked_ this man.

He was really trying to ignore it, though.

"You're glad now we didn't eat first, though, aren't you?"

"Yeah, yeah, you were right," Motomi said, standing upright and stretching. "Speaking of, I don't suppose you're starting to get hungry? I'm famished."

Akira opened his mouth to reply and suddenly shut it again. A horrible thought had just popped into his mind. _What if he's only being so nice to me because I'm paying him?_

Motomi tilted his head slightly at his silence. Akira shook the thought off.

"Yeah, me too. But let's go somewhere else, the food in these places always sucks. Ah!" He put up a finger as an idea came to him. "I know! There's a place near here that has the best burgers in the city. No, probably the best in Japan."

"Really," Motomi said. "That's a pretty hefty claim. You better not be lying."

"Trust me."

\---

The sun was setting, and the two of them sat on a bench by the sidewalk on a quiet street. Akira's favorite burger place was tiny, almost literally a hole in the wall, the kind of place you might walk right by without noticing, but Akira's praise hadn't been much of an exaggeration.

"I mean, I told him it was a bad idea right from the start," Akira continued his anecdote with a mouthful of food. "But he _still_ came crying to me afterwards. And I just said, Keisuke, if you'd listened to me in the first place, your stupid hamster would still be alive."

Motomi laughed heartily. "Some people never learn, do they?"

"I guess not," Akira sighed. He was caught off-guard when something touched the side of his face. Motomi had brushed a napkin against his cheek.

"Ah, sorry," he said. "Ketchup. So, anyway," he kept talking normally, either not noticing or pretending not to notice that Akira had turned slightly pink, "what did he say to that?"

"He, uhh..." Akira avoided looking directly at Motomi. "He just kept crying, like usual. He didn't listen to me back when we were kids, he still doesn't listen to me now."

"That sounds pretty annoying," Motomi said, downing what was left of his own burger. "But at least he sounds loyal. Hard to find people who'll stick around that long."

"That's true," Akira murmured quietly. He pulled out his phone to glance at the time. "So," he said, "It's getting kinda late, huh?"

"Little bit," Motomi said. "Why? You need to head home?"

"I suppose I should." Akira stood up, brushing crumbs from the front of his jeans. "Got a lot of homework I've been putting off..."

Motomi got to his feet as well. "I can walk you back, if you want," he offered.

"Ahh, no, that's alright, I'm really close to here, so..." Akira looked at him for a moment. "Oh..!" He pulled out his wallet, counting the bills inside. "Let's see, 1,000 an hour, and it's been...one, two..." he began to count off on his fingers.

"Actually," Motomi put up a hand to stop him, then after a pause: "Don't worry about it."

Akira stared at him, dumbfounded. "But..."

"You did pay for everything today already," Motomi explained, "and you're just a college student and all, I'm not sure I feel right taking your money..."

"It's fine," Akira argued, "I can afford it." In truth, he got all his money from his parents and he'd blown through his whole week's budget today, but he didn't really mind.

"No, seriously, this one'll be on me," Motomi insisted. "Besides...you showed me such a good time today. I don't think I should get paid for it."

"Well..." Akira said slowly, putting his wallet away, "if you're absolutely sure..."

"I am."

"Thanks," Akira mumbled. "I had fun too."

"Good. I'm glad you did." Motomi's smile seemed genuine.

An uncomfortable silence. Akira's least favorite thing. _Shit._

"Well," Motomi sighed as he began to turn away. "Nice meeting you. Take care." He gave a wave and began to walk away. Akira's heart pounded. A voice in his head was telling him he had to do this and do it now, before his chance slipped away.

"Wait," he shouted at Motomi's back. When the man turned around, Akira had to forcefully gulp down his nervousness. "Umm..." He looked down, struggling to put his thoughts into coherent words. He was running almost purely on impulse and hadn't actually figured out what he wanted to say.

"...yeah?" Motomi urged him quietly.

Another gulp. "I wanna see you again," he spat out at last. "A-and I don't mean I want to rent you another time. I just...would like to see you again." His voice had started out powerful but by the end, decrescendoed into something more like a murmur. When he found the courage to look up and read Motomi's face, he looked horribly confused.

"...Really?"

"Yes, really."

"You sound like you're asking me on a date," he laughed.

"Because I am."

Stunned silence. A very long one. Akira wasn't sure what kind of reaction he should've expected. Oh well, he thought. Rejection was nothing new. He could handle it no problem, as long as he prepared himself for it, and he fully anticipated it now. It was almost ludicrous, after all. No, he should've expected this.

"Yeah, didn't think so," Akira said under his breath. "Forget I said anything. Bye." He turned on his heel and immediately started off in the opposite direction.

"N-no, wait, wait, wait," Motomi caught up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, turning him back around. "Hold on, I didn't say no. I just...didn't expect it." He crossed his arms, regarding the boy before him curiously. "So, you want to actually go out with me?"

"Yes."

"And you don't care that I'm nearly twice your age?"

"You'd think I would," Akira sighed. "But I don't."

Motomi 'hmm'ed and nodded slowly. After a long moment he answered. "Okay."

Akira's eyes seemed to light up. "Really?"

"Sure. Who am I to say no to a cute face like that?" A teasing grin spread across his face. Akira had to look away, feeling himself blushing. "So, I've already got your number," Motomi said, pulling out his cell phone, "so I'll just text you so you'll have mine." Akira had forgotten he put his phone number when he submitted the online form. He took out his own phone, seeing the screen light up with new message icon.

"Okay, got it," he said. Akira looked up nervously. "So, I uh...I'll text you sometime."

"Okay," Motomi smiled and nodded. "So...seeya later?"

"Yeah." Akira turned to leave, waving over his shoulder. "Bye!" He strode at a controlled pace until he turned the corner, then, looking back to make sure Motomi was well out of sight, sprinted down the street without a care for how he looked, for no real reason other than his heart was pounding like a jackhammer and he felt the need to burn off the excess surge of energy.

\---

For about the 23rd time that night, Akira picked up his phone, did nothing with it, and put it back down again. He curled into a ball on the bed in his tiny studio apartment, hugging a pillow to his chest. _Don't do it now_ , he told himself again. _It's too soon, it looks pathetic. You're supposed to at least wait a day or two, right?_

The pile of homework on his desk still sat taunting him; he'd started, but barely put a dent in it. He couldn't concentrate tonight. It would be alright, he still had tomorrow to finish it all. He'd played his new game for a few hours, but after a while he was too distracted even for that. So here he lay, trying to let everything that happened that day sink in. It was weird, right? It made no sense at all that things turned out like they did. So why did it feel like something really, really good just happened?

He picked up his phone for the 24th time and set it down again. No, don't do it. Wait. But he wanted to text Motomi; just a simple "hi" or "what are you up to" or something. But no, he could wait. He sighed heavily, laying still. Eventually his eyes closed of their own accord, and he felt himself begin to drift off.

Just before he fell asleep, something jolted him awake. His phone vibrated, playing the high-pitched tone that indicated a new message. He grabbed it and looked at the screen, feeling his heart pound and a smile he couldn't hold back break out across his face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like this enough that you want me to continue it, PLEASE COMMENT! I'd love to see some encouragement since I don't even know if anyone's really going to read this. (=3=)


	2. Chapter 2

For their second (or did it count as their first? Akira wasn't sure) date, Akira thought it only fair to let Motomi decide what they should do, since he'd decided on everything last time. Motomi had pretty much immediately known where he wanted to go, which turned out to be a baseball game. His choice didn't surprise Akira, and he wondered if Motomi even got free or discounted tickets thanks to his job. He didn't think he'd appreciate the gesture of being treated any less if that were the case.

It had been a while since Akira had been to any kind of sporting event. He couldn't call himself a fan exactly, but he enjoyed watching all the same. What he was secretly enjoying even more, though, was seeing how into it Motomi was. The way his eyes glued to the field, other than when he'd occasionally pull a small, worn-out notebook from his pocket and scrawl something down ("Gotta do it while it's still fresh", he said), how enthusiastically he cheered, how he shouted and cursed at the umpire for a bad call. But nor was he too engrossed to pay attention to Akira, or to provide him with his impassioned and knowledgeable commentary.

It was impossible to see someone enjoying something they clearly loved and not have it rub off on you, and by the time the Giants narrowly claimed victory in the ninth inning, Akira was standing and screaming even louder than Motomi.

Keisuke was a Tigers fan, Akira recalled as he and Motomi followed the masses of people streaming out the the stadium. He smirked, thinking about how he couldn't wait to rub it in his face. A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Hey, my favorite bar isn't far from here," Motomi said when they got outside. "Wanna go?"

Akira nodded in agreement. Motomi kept an arm around his shoulders, just for a moment, as he guided him in the right direction. _Probably so he won't lose track of me in the crowd_ , Akira thought. _Probably..._

\---

Akira wasn't dumb, by any means. He did, though, have a knack for things like poor decision-making and not knowing his own limits. The difference in tolerance between the two of them had become plainly obvious. The number of beers Motomi had finished by great lengths outnumbered Akira, who was on drink number three; yet the latter could hardly sit up straight while the former showed no outward signs of being even slightly inebriated.

"Hey." Akira rested his chin on his hand, slouched over the bar, while he looked up at him. "I think I'm talking about me too much. Aren't you sick of hearing about me?"

"Not at all," Motomi said with a minute shake of his head. "You're actually not as boring as you seem to think you are." Indeed he'd been pretty inquisitive, and Akira's tipsiness served to loosen his tongue, so getting proper answers out of him for once was a lot easier. They'd covered all the major topics, like his family, his studies and his hobbies.

"Yeeeeahhh, but...still." Akira said dejectedly. He made to sit up straight, a bit woozy. A general feeling of numbness that started in his legs had spread to his head. "I don't really know anything about you, do I?"

"Sure you do." Motomi glanced sideways. "You know the important details." When he looked back at Akira, he was surprised to be met with a piercing stare. The younger man leaned forward a bit, narrowing his eyes.

"Y'know," he slurred, "you get pretty tight-lipped when I ask about your life."

"Is..is that s-so?" Motomi chuckled involuntarily, less at what Akira was saying and more at the look on his face. It was probably meant to be an accusatory glare, but was a little hard to take seriously with the state Akira was in.

His eyes narrowed further, regarding him quietly for a moment. "Motomi," he said at last. "I have a question."

"...Shoot."

"Now I'm only gonna ask once," Akira put up his index finger for emphasis, "So just answer honestly, okay?"

Motomi was struggling to keep a straight face. "Okay, I will."

Another short silence. Akira was still leaning in, almost seeming to advance very, very slowly. It felt like an interrogation. Finally he asked:

"Were you ever in the yakuza?"

" _Wha-HAT??_ " Motomi couldn't contain a minor outburst of laughter at the sheer absurdity of the question. Without skipping a beat, suddenly Akira's hands were on him, clumsily opening the buttons of his shirt. "A-Akira!! What are you _doing??!_ "

"Lemme see your tattoos!!" Akira had somehow unfastened three buttons and was on the fourth by the time Motomi's hands managed to stop him. He struggled against him, still trying to get his shirt open. "Come on, show me!!" His voice was pretty loud, as if his reckless behavior hadn't been enough; they'd drawn a lot of attention to themselves.

" _Ssshh!!_ Knock it off!" Motomi looked around, thoroughly embarrassed as he forced Akira back into his seat. "I don't have any, see?" he said in a hushed voice, pulling the fabric back just enough to show the ink-less skin beneath in an attempt to sate him. Akira took a cursory glance before turning his head the other way. He was already flushed from the alcohol, which he seriously hoped would conceal any extra heat that had risen to his face.

 _He must work out_ , Akira thought. Even with only that short glimpse to go off of, he could tell how muscular Motomi was compared to Akira's slight frame.

Motomi re-fastened his buttons, shaking his head and laughing. "Me, an ex-mobster...that's some imagination you've got."

"Welllll, then answer me this," Akira prodded, clearly not satisfied. Motomi almost seemed to grimace, as if dreading what Akira might dream up next. "Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

Ah, innocent enough, Motomi decided. "Korean army," he answered. Akira blinked at him incredulously, thinking it might have been a joke. When no laugh or punchline came, he furrowed his brow.

"What? Seriously?"

"Yup." Motomi threw back a swig of beer.

"So...you lived in Korea?" His head was tilted so far to one side, Motomi thought that coupled with his fluffy hair he was starting to resemble a little dog, like a chihuahua. The thought greatly amused him; maybe it just meant his sobriety was starting to head downhill too.

"Yeah, for a while."

"So does that mean you can speak Korean?"

"Mulreon hal su itta."

Akira's face lit up with excitement. "Waah, that's so cool. Say something else!"

Motomi rolled his eyes. "Dangshin i oneul bam eh neun ama sul eul ma shil mankum ma shoseul ko ye yo." He regarded him with a sort of smug smile that made Akira suspect he'd just been insulted.

"...What does that mean?"

"It means you're cute," Motomi said without a hint of irony.

"Sh-shut up! That's not what you said." Akira became flustered and pouted. He wondered if this kind of thing was normal; to be made fun of by your date. Not that he could argue against it, since it was in harmless good fun. And why worry if it was "normal" or not? Nothing about this situation was very normal in the first place.

"So from the military to sports journalism," Akira thought aloud. "Sounds like you've done a lot of things. Oh, that reminds me." He turned to face Motomi. "How's that rental service thing going?"

"Actually, you were my last customer," Motomi admitted. "I quit."

"Oh...really?"

"I mean, I was planning on quitting soon anyway," he continued. "If you'd tried to request me a day later, I'd probably have left already."

"Why did you wanna quit?"

Motomi 'hmm'ed as he stared off into space, trying to think of an answer. "I wasn't getting what I wanted out of it, I s'pose," he said after a moment.

"Which was?"

Motomi glanced sideways at Akira, then back away again to continue staring ahead. His lips were pressed idly against the glass bottleneck. "To alleviate boredom," he finally seemed to decide, cracking a grin. "It's not like I needed extra money or anything, I just thought it might be interesting."

 _To alleviate boredom_ , Akira thought. _Sounds like the same reason I did it_. He thought about what Motomi had said, about how another day later and he might have quit already, and he wondered if he should consider that a stroke of luck or not. After a moment he heaved a sigh.

"Something wrong?" Motomi asked.

 _I feel like I know even_ less _about you now_ , Akira thought but didn't vocalize, shaking his head instead. That would surely be a weird thing to say. That was when he remembered something from the day at the amusement park. "Say, I was just wondering," he started tentatively, "and I hope it's not like, rude to ask or anything, but..."

"Hmm?"

"You said you had a wife, right? How did your marriage end?" It WAS kind of a rude thing to ask, but Akira was blunt under normal circumstances, never mind when he was full of liquor. He saw Motomi blink at him a few times. Was he hesitating? A horrible thought entered Akira's head; he'd gotten sort of a vibe that Motomi was hiding something. What if he was actually still married and seeing him behind his wife's back? No, that couldn't be, he was just being paranoid, right?

The suspicion didn't last for long. Motomi wore a calm expression and a nonchalant tone that didn't quite fit the words that came out of his mouth next. "When she killed herself."

Akira was stunned into silence as he watched Motomi take another sip of beer. He wasn't used to hearing someone say a thing like that and look so casual about it at the same time.

 _...Shit._ "Oh...I'm really sorry..." Akira apologized awkwardly. Something else to say, quick. Change subject, change subject. "S-so, what about your kid? How old are they?"

"Let's see," Motomi sighed, looking up, as if counting in his mind. "If he were still alive, he'd be almost 20."

 _Oh, SHIT._ Akira couldn't believe his ears. He eyed the glass on the bar in front of him. It held the last few drops of amaretto, which turned a lighter shade of amber as the ice cubes in it melted. He felt a surge of guilt.

He grunted, slumping over on the bar and resting his head on his folded arms. "Fuck, I'm an idiot....I shouldn't have brought it up."

"N-no, don't ," Motomi said. "It was years ago, and you had no way of knowing, and--" He patted Akira's shoulders roughly. "Seriously, don't worry about it." When Akira glanced up at him pathetically, he was met with an earnest ear-to-ear smile. "Come on now, if you feel bad, it makes me feel bad about you feeling bad, and then you'll feel even worse, and it's just a vicious cycle, see?"

Akira nodded. "Sure, I guess."

"I dunno about you, but I feel like I could use some fresh air," Motomi then said. Akira pictured him lighting up a new cigarette the moment they stepped outside and thought it kind of contradicted the whole idea of 'fresh air'. "Whaddaya say?" Akira sat bolt upright, suddenly excited.

"Yes!! That's a good idea, let's do that!"

Motomi laughed. "Walking around will give you a chance to sober up, too," he said as he got to his feet.

"Shaddup, I'm perfectly--" Akira got to his feet as well, and didn't make it a full step before stumbling. It wasn't until now that he noticed just how shaky his legs had become. Motomi managed to catch him by the arm before he hit the ground.

"Yeah, sure you are."

\---

It was fairly late, and the sun had long since set. Akira and Motomi were making their way down a street that sloped downhill, which was mostly devoid of people. Akira noticed the way Motomi stayed close and watched him, as if wary he'd need to catch him again. "You don't need to do that," Akira muttered. "I told ya I'm fine."

"Do what?" Motomi tilted his head and feigned innocence. He found it amusing how Akira carried himself with more confidence than usual, even though his motor skills weren't back to 100% and one miscalculated step would probably send him to the ground.

Akira scowled at him a bit, as if to say 'don't play dumb with me'.

Motomi chuckled, staring off into the cloudless night sky. "I wonder if I acted so reckless at your age," he pondered aloud.

"What do you mean, reckless? I'm totally normal," Akira said defensively.

"Trying to take off someone's shirt in public to check for yakuza tattoos is 'normal', is it?" Motomi sneered at him with a sideways glance.

"Sh-shut up." Akira stepped a bit faster, putting himself a few paces ahead of Motomi.

"I don't mean to make fun," Motomi placated him. "It would be a waste to not get a little drunk and crazy in your early 20's while you can still get away with it. After that, it's just called alcoholism."

"I hardly ever drink," Akira admitted. Not much surprise there. "So I guess I'm not taking advantage, am I?" He smiled a little to himself. He turned around to face Motomi, folding his arms behind his head and walking backwards down the sidewalk. "So will I be like you in twenty years? Tolerance-wise, I mean. Or is it more of a person-to-person thing?"

"Well, you shouldn't exactly compare yourself to me. And you probably shouldn't walk like that."

"Hmm? Why not?"

"Because you'll bump into something, or--"

"No, I mean why shouldn't I compare myself to you?"

Motomi looked at a loss for words. "'Cause I've done four or five peoples' share of drinking in my lifetime," he finally answered. "I hardly think you should strive to reach that. Hey, watch out." Akira ignored his warning and kept walking backwards, when suddenly Motomi grabbed hold of the front of his jacket, stopping him short. He gave an irritated sigh. "See? I told you. You almost walked right into that tree."

Akira looked around and indeed, another two inches and he would have collided with it. "Ah...thanks..." he mumbled, but he wasn't paying attention to Motomi. He'd spotted a pair of people; two young women; on the opposite side of the street. Was it his imagination, or...? No, it wasn't. They were pointing at him and saying something. They seemed to catch him staring and then quickened their pace, continuing on their way. Motomi followed his line of sight, but didn't seem to notice the women.

"What?" he asked Akira.

"...Nothing." A number of thoughts were running through his head. Was there something strange about their current position? Or was it that Akira had still been talking more loudly than usual? Yes, it was probably that, but every time someone stared at him and Motomi, it brought him back to reality a little bit. It happened at the amusement park, the stadium, the bar, and now here. Every time someone stared, he noticed. Did they really stand out so much? Or was Akira overthinking it?

"Uh...Akira?" A hand waved in front of his face. He'd spaced out again and hadn't said anything for a while. He looked up at Motomi, who wore a slightly confused expression.

"Hey." Akira started. _Reality?_ he thought. _This_ is _reality. This, right here._

"...Yeah?"

"You know what's weird to me?" he blurted out at last. "How not weird this is to me, you know?"

Motomi cocked one eyebrow. "I'm not sure I follow."

Akira knew what he was thinking, but had to take a moment to figure out how to put it in words. "Like...well...when I first asked you out, what were you thinking?"

Motomi looked caught off guard. "I was thinking...hmm..." He rubbed his chin and looked down, trying to recall.

"You were surprised, weren't you?" Akira interjected.

"Yeah, I really was." Motomi smiled. "I didn't see it coming at all."

"Right. Because the whole thing's weird, isn't it?" Akira's phrasing was childish, but his point was clear.

"A little, yes. But you say it doesn't feel weird, right?" To this Akira nodded. "Then why worry about it?" The look he gave Akira was...reassuring, in a way. Motomi made to continue down the sidewalk, silently encouraging Akira to follow. "I was also really glad, though." As they walked side by side, Akira looked at Motomi, who faced straight ahead. "Since I was kind of bummed to have to say goodbye to you."

Akira felt a weight lifting off his heart, one he hadn't even noticed was there, but he definitely noticed its absence. His whole body felt lighter. He couldn't think of any way to respond, but he kept looking at Motomi. The other man wasn't looking back. He couldn't be embarrassed, could he? _But then_ , Akira realized, _it does take some guts to be so honest. Maybe I should be honest with him, too._

He had to take a deep breath. "Remember how I said I've never been in a serious relationship?"

"Mm?"

"It's even worse than that," he continued. "I haven't been on a date. This is my first ever." Motomi regarded him with wide eyes. "Haven't even had a first kiss or anything." Motomi looked straight-up flabbergasted and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Seriously??" Akira nodded. "Jeez, Akira," Motomi clapped his hand to his forehead in a show of dismay. "Make me feel like I'm robbing the cradle here..." Akira fidgeted where he stood. When Motomi caught sight of him, he backpedaled slightly. "B-but not like there's anything wrong with that," he said. "I mean, um..."

"Nah, it's fine." Akira brushed him off, continuing on his way. "I know, I'm strange. It just is the way it is." He said this more to himself than to Motomi. Looking ahead, he saw the glimmer of light reflecting on the surface of water. They were close to the harbor. Just beginning to pull away from the dock, a ship dotted with shining points of light from its many windows stood out in the pitch black night. Looking down to the pier not far below, Akira caught an impulse and broke into a run.

"Hey Akira, where--" He could hear Motomi behind, but his pace was slower and the distance between them quickly increased. Still, somehow, he didn't doubt that he'd continue to follow. He sprinted at full speed all the way to the pier, the sound of his feet shifting from hard steps on concrete to hollow echoes as he landed on its wooden surface. When he got to the metal railing, he climbed it, standing on the middle horizontal bar a few feet above the ground. On the edges of his peripheral vision, there were stretches of land that poked out along the curving shore; though he knew they were there, they were swathed in darkness, making them almost invisible. If he looked straight ahead, all he saw was sea and sky; pure expanses of black reaching out infinitely in all directions. It felt like he could easily be lost in it.

The strong wind coming in carried the smell of salt. It was bone-chilling, the kind you could only expect in late-fall-almost-winter. Yet Akira didn't flinch away from its icy sting. He took his hands off of the top railing and spread them out on either side. He breathed in deeply and let the wind bite every inch of him, felt his hair whip at his face as it was blown around. The sound he was awaiting finally came; as the ship pulled out of the harbor, its horn blared, ear-splittingly loud at this distance, reverberating all around him. His voice joined it, screaming at the top of his lungs in time with the horn's blast.

"Akira!" A voice piped up behind him just as the sound died out. Motomi had caught up to him, and was out of breath. "What are...you... _haa_....doing?" Akira twisted around to look back at him and laughed; not at the sight of Motomi doubled over and coughing into his fist, though it might have looked like that was what he was laughing at. Instead of answering the question, he asked one of his own.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?"

A sardonic grin tugged at the corner of Motomi's mouth. "Yeah, sure, it is..." Akira looked back out at the scenery, trying to spot the horizon. The sky and sea blurred together; only the patches of light undulating on the surface could give away where the water ended and the sky, speckled with the static lights of stars here and there, began. It was hard to see, and staring too long and too hard would make his eyes almost begin to hurt. "S-say, Akira." He heard Motomi take a few steps closer to him. "You should probably get down, that's kinda dangerous..."

Indeed he was poised a little precariously, with the upper half of his body leaning out past the railing. "I'm fi--" he stopped when he felt a light tug on the back of his jacket.

"Come on, come down." Motomi urged him so quietly, he was almost drowned out by the crashing of waves on the rocks far below. Akira thought he should comply. With only his right hand on the top rail, he turned one foot around. He started to awkwardly figure out the placement of his other foot, when something slipped. He began to fall. "AKIRA!!"

Before he even knew what happened, he felt something holding him tightly. It all happened in the blink of an eye, but the sensation of gravity pulling at him had been loud and clear. Akira's heart was pounding away like a jackhammer against his ribcage. It took him a second to even realize; he'd lost his footing and for just a second, he'd started to fall over, towards the water, but Motomi had grabbed him immediately and pulled him back.

He was now seated on the top rail, facing in Motomi's direction. The second he caught sight of the man's face, he saw fury. "Be careful!! You know how badly you could've hurt yourself?!"

Akira was shocked by the intensity of his words. He stared back wide-eyed, unsure how to respond for a moment. "I...'m sorry," he said quietly. Motomi let out a deep sigh, his features softening.

"No, I'm sorry...I shouldn't have yelled at you like that..."

There had been a panic evident in his voice. Though Akira's blood was still pumping with adrenaline, he wondered if seeing it had been even scarier than he himself experiencing it. But there was something else keeping his attention; Motomi's arms. They were still there, around his upper body, holding him.

Akira couldn't not notice. He noticed every instance of contact, however small. Any time Motomi brushed against him, touched him, either on purpose or by accident, Akira stored it away in memory. He remembered each and every one.

And they were _still there_. Just holding him, like he was afraid to let go.

"It's okay," Akira said quietly. "You're right, I should've been careful..." He was saying what he thought he should say, but his mind and his mouth were slightly detached, because he was still thinking about Motomi's arms and why they were _still there._

"Ah, here..." Motomi lifted him slightly, made to help Akira down. Before Akira's feet had even touched the ground, his lips landed on Motomi's. His weight fell into Motomi's chest. Akira stood on the very tips of his toes; he had to just to reach. The arms holding him didn't let go.

The kiss had only lasted a second or two, but the instant it stopped, Akira replaced it with a new one, interrupted only by a short hitch of breath, the contact between their skin hardly breaking for a moment. It wasn't exactly like Akira thought it would be; not quite as wet, but softer. When Motomi started to kiss him back, there was a faint taste of tobacco. Akira didn't mind it. He thought he felt those arms tighten around him a bit; wait, was he imagining it? No, he definitely wasn't.

His sense of time warped, he had no idea how long it was before the kiss finally ended. His legs, which had been straining to hold him up to Motomi's height, relaxed and brought him back down to Earth. Akira was a little short of breath, not quite meeting Motomi's eyes. He couldn't decide if what he'd just done had been stupid or not. A soft laugh eventually brought him out of his thoughts.

"I feel kind of bad," Motomi murmured. "Being the one to steal your first kiss."

"You didn't steal it from me. I gave it to you." It was the first thing that popped to Akira's mind, so he said it; but it was true. It wasn't stolen from Akira at all, it was given readily. He got the feeling if he'd waited for Motomi to take it, he'd have been waiting forever.

\--

Not long after, they'd caught a train to get Akira back home. It was very late, and the car they sat in was almost unoccupied. They sat side by side, talking very little. For once, Akira didn't mind the silence. It wasn't really so awkward this time.

Akira felt a throbbing pain in his leg. He didn't feel it at first, but now that time had passed, he was sore where his shin hit the railing when he slipped. It reminded him what might have happened if Motomi wasn't there, sending a shudder down his spine. He tried not to think about the distance from the edge of the pier to the water, or what his odds would have been of hitting the rocks...ugh. Don't think about it.

He glanced sideways at Motomi, who must have been tired or lost in thought, or both. Akira honestly didn't mind sharing this bit of silence with him, but still, he wanted to do something. He looked left and right. There was almost no one else around...no one looking, for sure.

He then peered at the space on the seat between himself and Motomi, where the other man's hand was resting. Akira returned to staring in the other direction, away from Motomi, with his elbow on the back of the seat and his chin supported on his hand. His other hand tapped fingers against his knee nervously.

After a few seconds he put his hand on the seat. Slowly, inch by tiny inch, without ever turning to look in Motomi's direction, his hand crawled its way toward Motomi's. He kept going until it bumped into it, then gently prodded at him with one finger. The moment Motomi figured out what he was trying to do, he sped the process up by grabbing Akira's hand and holding it tightly in his. Akira smiled into his palm.

They stayed that way almost the duration of the train ride until they finally reached the right stop. Still talking only occasionally, they made their way to Akira's apartment. Akira said he could go it alone, but no, Motomi insisted, he'd see him all the way home. His idea of good manners, he supposed.

By now any tipsiness had worn off and Akira had returned to his usual awkward self. Thinking back to his impulsive actions on the pier, it all felt like recalling a dream. Even the kiss; no, _especially_ the kiss. It took until now for a little voice inside to ask, did that really happen? Now here he was, standing in front of the entrance to his building with Motomi. One of his hands fumbled around with the edge of his sleeve as he struggled with what he should say. It was clearly time for a goodbye of some sort, but how? What words could be the right way to end a night like this?

Motomi did some of the work for him. "It was really fun," he said.

Akira smiled and nodded. "I had fun too." Another tense silence. It then occurred to Akira what he should ask, what was probably the most important thing he wanted to know just then. As he stood there fidgeting, it came out as gracefully as he should have expected. It wasn't even a full sentence. "...do it again soon?"

 _Jeez, nice going_ , he cursed himself mentally.

"Definitely." The reply came with a smile that put him at ease. Well, if there was some nuanced way to end this, Akira didn't know it. He'd just say 'good night', he decided. He began to turn slightly to open the door behind him, and before he could say it, Motomi spoke first. "If you don't mind..."

He turned back, and his heart sped up at the realization that Motomi was closer than before. Just inches away from his face. And leaning in.

"...I'm going to steal this one."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a friend of a friend translate the Korean lines for me, so I can't say anything for their accuracy, but she's fairly fluent so I trust them!
> 
> P.S. Smut coming soon, I promise. (^_~)b


	3. Chapter 3

Akira avoided talking on the phone as much as humanly possible. As far as people he would willingly talk to for any extended period of time, he could count them on one hand with room to spare. It wasn't terribly rare for Keisuke to call him up out of the blue, especially since they'd been living far apart, and seeing that particular name on the screen meant he wouldn't be sending it to voice mail for once.

This was actually decent timing, as he'd been wanting to tell Keisuke...well, someone, _anyone_ for a while now. He wasn't really sure how to approach it, but several minutes into their conversation when Keisuke was done going on and on about whatever current troubles plagued him so, he asked suddenly "So what's new with you?" Akira saw it as a perfect place to segue straight into it.

"Keisuke, I've got something important to tell you."

"Oh?"

"But first I'm going to have to remind you that as my best friend, you're not allowed to judge me."

There was a short pause.

"...Holy shit, what did you _do_?" Before Akira even had a chance to continue, it seemed Keisuke had ideas of his own. "Did you kill someone?"

An annoyed sigh. "No, Keisuke."

"Do you need help hiding the body? I knew it was just a matter of time, Akira, but damn..."

" **Keisuke**."

"Alright, alright, tell me what it is."

"Well, it's..." Akira hesitated. "I'm dating someone."

There was a silence on the other end of the line. "...What, you? Seriously??"

"Mmhm."

" _You_? Really?"

"YES."

"That's...that's great!" Keisuke finally sputtered. "But wait...why would I judge you for that?" He prodded, seeming to sense there was more.

"Uh, that's...er..." Akira faltered once again. "It's..." He heaved a sigh. "...a guy."

An even longer and more tense silence this time. Akira waited patiently for Keisuke to speak, and when he did, his voice was quiet. "...To be honest, I guess I always kinda..."

Akira interrupted him, maybe because the words were too eager to jump out. "And he's forty-two."

"He...he's WHAT?!" Keisuke spat. "As in years old?!"

"Yeah."

Akira heard a fit of laughter through the phone. "Okay, okay," Keisuke panted after a moment. "You got me, I fell for it hook, line and sinker. Good one, Akira."

Akira pinched the bridge of his nose, rubbing his fingers there. This wasn't exactly the reaction he expected...or wanted. "God damn it, Keisuke..."

"You mean you're...not...kidding?"

"Of course not! What would be the point of joking about that?!" He waited for Keisuke, who fumbled with words on the other end, trying to think up a response. "Hey, wait a second," Akira said. "What's that you were saying before?"

"Huh?"

"Right after I said it was a guy."

"Uhhh, I...was just saying...that...it didn't surprise me, I guess?"

"What do you mean?"

"It was kind of obvious, Akira," Keisuke said with laughter in his voice.

"...Obvious to who??"

"To me, duh."

Akira didn't believe his ears. "Are you telling me you knew this whole time and you didn't say anything?"

"That wouldn't really be fair, would it?" Keisuke said. "I wasn't gonna pry it out of you, I just figured you'd tell me when you felt like it." He had a very good point, but Akira wasn't sure if he should be relieved or annoyed. Either way, it was at least some weight off his shoulders, and he let out a groan, burying his face in his palm. "I don't think it's obvious to anyone else, if that helps at all," Keisuke assured him. "I'm sure your parents don't know..."

Akira sincerely hoped Keisuke was right. He honestly had no idea what kind of reaction his parents would have; whether they'd not mind at all, or hate it, or anywhere in-between. Not that he knew for sure they'd have a negative reaction -- still, it worried him. He'd tell them eventually, he thought. But he'd have to spread the information out a little; the 'your son is gay' conversation might be bad enough, try to give them the 'I'm dating a middle-aged man' talk on the same day and he might kill them both with heart attacks.

"You won't tell anyone, right?" Akira asked.

"O-of course not! Your secret's safe with me!" He stammered. Akira internally breathed a sigh of relief. "So...42, huh?" Keisuke continued. "How long have you been seeing him?"

Akira had to stop and think. "Hmm, a few weeks. Almost a month."

"And you're only telling me _now_??" Keisuke almost sounded personally offended. He'd always been on the clingy side and sometimes acted like it was his business to know when anything of any importance happened to Akira. It was irritating, but he was used to it, and at least it came from good enough intentions. Almost a protective-big-brother sort of thing, the way Akira saw it.

"I dunno. I just got tired of keeping it to myself," Akira mumbled. "...It's sort of annoying."

"What is?"

"Having to be so secretive about it," Akira said. "Neither of us can really tell anyone, and any time we're in public, we have to act like we aren't like that. Since it's the whole age stigma, on top of the gay thing."

"I could see that being kind of a pain," Keisuke said.

"When you get right down to it, people are judgmental assholes." Akira was getting more irritated the more he thought about it.

"Well...try not to pay them any mind," Keisuke replied after a moment. "The important thing is that _you're_ happy, right?"

"...Yeah." Akira smiled a bit. Somehow he knew he could count on Keisuke.

\---

"Now pick two cards. Don't look at them, though," Akira instructed. Motomi rubbed his chin as he looked at the cards laid out face-down on his coffee table. As he was told, he chose two of them, which Akira picked up, keeping their faces hidden.

"You can really tell my fortune from this?"

"Sure I can." Akira had learned about telling fortunes with ordinary playing cards in high school, but in truth he didn't remember a lot of it. Whenever he wasn't sure what the cards meant, he'd just bullshit his way through it. He looked at the cards, then turned them around to show Motomi.

"...An eight of diamonds and a five of clubs." Motomi was fraught with skepticism. "What's that mean?"

Akira sighed and closed his eyes, struggling to remember. "It means...something's stressing you out more than usual lately. Maybe something at work?" He opened one eye to read Motomi's reaction. An unimpressed deadpan stare.

"Not really," Motomi said. "And that's not a fortune."

"Cards don't always predict the future," Akira explained, shuffling them back into the deck. "Sometimes they reflect your present or even your past." He dealt five more, indicating for Motomi to choose again. This time, a jack of spades and nine of hearts.

"Well? What do they say now?"

Akira had no idea whatsoever.

"Hmmm. Interesting," he said, looking at the cards in his hand. "These indicate that you should practice more generosity."

"Generosity?"

"Yes. Maybe there's someone in your life who needs something." Akira looked at Motomi with a straight face. "Such as a new pair of shoes, for example."

Motomi blinked. "Hey, I think I might have the gift, too," he said suddenly, grabbing a card from the table and holding it to his forehead. "Yeah, yeah, this one's definitely telling me something..." He grinned. "It's saying you're full of shit!"

Akira snatched the card out of Motomi's hand. "Okay, okay, I'm gonna do a real one now," he said as he re-shuffled them. "I promise." Once more he dealt five and let Motomi pick two. Akira looked at their faces; he actually remembered the meaning of these.

"Well?" Motomi prodded.

"Umm, it's..." Akira hesitated. He wasn't sure he wanted to say. Motomi grew curious.

"What?"

"This indicates that," Akira began, trying not to stutter, "currently, you're..."

"...yes?"

Akira turned his face away and mumbled the rest, barely audible. "You're...infatuated...with someone." He waited tensely for Motomi's reply.

"Hmmmmmm. Nope, can't think of anyone." Akira immediately grabbed the deck and flung it at Motomi, scattering the cards all over. "Hey, I was just kidding!" Motomi laughed as he picked them up. Akira was turned from him, but even from the back of his head Motomi could tell he was seething. "Oh boy, looks like I made him angry." Under his breath, Motomi mimicked the sound of a dog growling and yipping. Akira shot him a death glare. It had become a frequent joke of his, for _some_ reason, to compare Akira to a chihuahua, and make barking noises anytime he got mad.

After gathering all the scattered cards and putting them back on the table, Motomi moved closer to Akira on the sofa and stroked his hair. "Alright, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean it." Akira's look softened, in a way that said 'you're still not 100% forgiven'.

"Is that so?"

"You mean it's not obvious?" Motomi's tone was low, suggestive as he brought his lips close to Akira's. "Clearly, I'm infatuated." He kissed him softly. Akira's resolve cracked; he kept finding that Motomi was an extremely difficult man to stay angry at. The younger man's heart was starting to race. He shouldn't be nervous, he thought. There's nothing new about this situation.

This wasn't the first time he'd been in Motomi's apartment. Coming here was a fairly regular thing now, and it was a lot bigger and nicer than Akira's studio. Between Akira's classes and Motomi's job, they didn't find a whole lot of time to see each other, but they'd get together just about any time they could. On top of that, Akira had been texting him an almost embarrassing amount to make up for when they were apart. He worried at first that it made him seem annoying, but Motomi didn't seem to find it that way at all. For better or worse, they couldn't escape the feeling that the label of "couple" was starting to dangle overhead, even if they hadn't yet come right out and made it official.

Akira returned Motomi's kiss, and something that started as an apologetic little smooch was gaining heat fast. Motomi's hand tugged a little as it threaded in Akira's hair, pulling him in hungrily. The other hand had settled on Akira's knee, and was rubbing against his jeans.

This wasn't new, either. They'd gotten into some pretty heavy makeout sessions before, but -- and this was probably the part that had Akira on edge -- they'd done nothing beyond that. Always Motomi's hands would caress him like this, his thighs, his sides, but stopping just short of anywhere really intimate. It was a terrible tease. But no, Akira thought, it wasn't that he was trying to tease. It was the same way with their first kiss. He thought, with a little twinge of embarrassment, _he doesn't want to push me into it, since he knows I'm..._

Akira fisted his hands in Motomi's shirt and opened his mouth, entwining their tongues. This was getting to be more than he could stand. His blood was on fire, his body ached. The hand that slid up his leg, over his hip, up his waist, it was amazing but it just wasn't _enough_. He wasn't even exactly sure what he wanted, but it needed to be more than this. Dropping hints, as he'd learned from experience, wasn't going to get the job done. If he was going to get anywhere, he'd have to be obvious. When they broke their kiss, Akira racked his brain, trying to think of what to do. What to do, what to do...

"Akira?" It must've shown that he was thinking hard about something. Taking the initiative wasn't his strong point. In fact, doing what he was thinking about doing was terrifying. But there was no other way, he thought. He was no good at putting things in words, so he'd have to do something more physical. To hell with it. He sighed, shoving down his nerves. He'd just catch Motomi off-guard. He put his hands on the man's shoulders, shoved him back into the sofa, and climbed over his lap, straddling him.

For a moment Motomi was stunned, even as Akira started to unbutton his shirt. "A-Akira, what're you..." Akira silenced him with a new kiss, feverish and aggressive. He undid the last of Motomi's buttons and reached in to trace his fingers over the broad plane of his pecs, down the rippling outline of his abs. He looked down at the exposed chest, his first real good look at Motomi's body. Lightly tanned, a faint line of hairs trailing down from his navel. He knew it would be a pretty sight from the faint impression he got in the bar, but even so it met and surpassed every expectation.

Akira badly wanted to touch it more. For the moment his shyness seemed all but forgotten as he was preoccupied with trailing his hands over every inch of exposed skin. What stopped him was when he felt Motomi's fingers creeping up his shirt. Upon looking at the other man's face, he thought he looked...flushed? At least a little. It was sort of cute. The corner of Motomi's mouth turned up as he pulled at the edge of the fabric. As if to say "Why just me?"

It took a few seconds to register. Once it did, Akira did his best to ignore the flurry of butterflies in his stomach and lifted his own shirt up, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Motomi's eyes raked over him, and Akira felt himself grow hot under his gaze. After a long and tense pause of Akira not being sure what to do, Motomi brought his hand up, but stopped just short of touching him. _Damn it, stop hesitating like that_. It felt like his body was moving on its own as Akira grabbed both of Motomi's hands and put them on his waist. He claimed Motomi's lips again, silently telling him to touch all he wanted.

Skin on skin was a completely different sensation. Every place those hands met with tingled. Goosebumps rose to the surface here and there as the expanses of his back and chest were explored. Shivers ran up his spine, but he wouldn't let them interrupt the kisses he so fervently shared with Motomi. Something forced a gasp out of him before he could stop it. Surprised, Motomi looked at him. His finger had grazed Akira's nipple, eliciting a more dramatic reaction than he'd expected. "Hmm? Are they sensitive?" he murmured.

Akira's face burned up. "I don't know," he retorted, averting his gaze. Motomi was watching him, curiously, making his self-consciousness shoot up tenfold. He gauged Akira's reaction as he deliberately rubbed it again. He gasped once more, immediately cursing himself for making such sounds. Motomi teased both of them at the same time, drawing little circles over them with his fingertips. Akira bit his lip and held his breath in an attempt to stifle any more noises coming out. He couldn't keep himself from squirming in Motomi's lap. Well, at least Motomi's question was answered.

He circled his arms around Akira's back and drew him forward, until his face was pressed into Akira's chest, where he softly laid kisses along his collarbone. Akira could feel a slight scratch from his stubble with each one, as well as his warm breath, making him a bit ticklish. Akira should have expected it, as Motomi trailed kisses down the center of his chest, but somehow he didn't; those lips eventually landed on his nipple, forcing out another high gasp and making his whole body go tense.

Motomi's tongue flicked the hard nub, alternating between licking and sucking. Meanwhile his hand played with the other one, sometimes lightly pinching. Akira's response was louder than he would've liked. He bit his lip trying to suppress his whines and sighs, a wasted effort. It wasn't all verbal, either; his legs trembled, unconsciously squeezing Motomi's body, and his hips rolled into the other man's like they had a mind of their own. Akira's head was spinning. He thought he might lose his mind if this kept up too long.

Thankfully it didn't last, but it was replaced by something almost as torturous. Motomi latched onto the creamy curve of Akira's neck, sucking and biting hard enough to mar the pale flesh. It amazed Akira; it should have hurt, it _did_ hurt, but it hurt so fucking _good_. He'd never expected pain to feel this way, and more than that, his body's reaction was obvious. The growing stiffness between his legs wouldn't be able to be kept secret much longer.

Akira fought to control his breathing, biting back moans and trying to find his voice. Finally, he breathed: "Hey."

"Hmm?" Motomi hummed inquisitively but didn't stop his actions on Akira's throat.

"Let's..." He gulped. "Let's go to your bedroom."

That stopped him. Motomi looked at Akira, a little stunned. "Really?"

Akira nodded.

"You're sure?"

 _Am I sure? I think if we don't do something soon, I'm going to explode_. Akira nodded again. "Yeah, I'm sure."

\---

It was all catching up with him now. All of a sudden, this felt ten times more real than it did moments ago. The bed was soft, and the sheets and pillows had his smell, Akira thought. The only light to see by was a few stray moonbeams that filtered through the window, enough to see the contours of Motomi's strong shoulders as he slid his shirt off. The other man crawled on top of Akira, the closeness of his body making his heart rate quicken.

His breath caught in his lungs as Motomi leaned in and laid soft, slow kisses on his lips. He trailed down his chin and neck, all the way down his torso until his bellybutton. To Akira's surprise, he kissed his navel. His muscles all went tense as Motomi kissed his abs and nipped his skin lightly with his teeth. His body flinched in response, making Motomi laugh softly. "Ticklish?"

"I dunno," Akira muttered. He tensed again when he felt Motomi's hands at his hips, unbuttoning his jeans. His stomach did backflips, unable to tell if he was excited, terrified or both. Motomi grabbed the slackened waistband and slowly pulled it down, Akira lifting his hips a bit to help him. His now fully-hard arousal was obvious, tenting the thin fabric of his underpants. Motomi smiled, thinking the grey boxer-briefs strangely matched Akira's personality. His hand stroked him languidly, feeling it twitch under his touch, and noticing the wetness where his precum soaked through.

"Look how hard you are already," he said under his breath. Akira turned his head and gave an irritated 'tch', surely fighting back the urge to tell him off for saying such things. Motomi slid his hands under Akira's underpants, pulling them down as well, along with his jeans, all the way to his ankles where he yanked them off and threw them on the floor. Akira's naked form was tense, and glancing up he saw the younger man looking like he wanted to hide. "You don't need to be shy," Motomi murmured, lying beside Akira and nuzzling the side of his face. His hand wrapped around Akira's cock and started to stroke him. He kissed Akira's ear and spoke in a husky whisper. "You're beautiful."

Akira let out a moan at his caresses. The slightly calloused hand that pumped him applied just the right pressure, working up and down his shaft before circling the head with his thumb, smearing his precum. All the while his ear was under attack from kisses, which turned into a nibbling of his earlobe. While his mind increasingly clouded with lust, Akira thought he should do something. It wouldn't exactly be fair to only be on the receiving end, right? His hand traced down Motomi's stomach until he reached his pants, and awkwardly with one hand, attempted to unfasten them.

Motomi paused when he noticed what Akira was doing. With the zipper down, Akira felt an erection just as rock-hard and needy as his own. He slid his hand into Motomi's boxers and started stroking his length. Motomi was...quite a bit bigger than Akira. He should've expected as much, since he was bigger in general, but still...

Meanwhile Motomi had returned to jacking Akira off, and rolled his tongue in the shell of his ear. Akira's back arched. His voice betrayed him with moans he couldn't contain. The bucking of his hips into Motomi's hand was far from voluntary, too. As distracted as he was by the things being done to him, he was also worrying that he wouldn't somehow mess this up. His only experience was what he'd done to himself, naturally, and he was with someone that actually knew what they were doing. It made him nervous again.

Before he'd had long to worry about it, he heard Motomi let out a low sigh. His breathing had gotten heavier. It seemed it was having an effect, after all. It set his mind at ease a little, and made him work Motomi's cock faster. The response he earned was a faint moan into his ear. He didn't know since when he found that voice so arousing, but he swore it shot straight to his loins. To his disappointment, only seconds later Motomi sat up and pulled away from him.

The other man moved down, and parted Akira's legs. His heart all but stopped, not knowing what Motomi would do next. He settled in-between them, Akira's arousal in hand, and brought his mouth to it. Akira inhaled sharply when his lips made contact, soon followed by his tongue. In a second he'd engulfed almost all of it. "Aaahh-!!" Akira yelped loudly, clamping a hand over his mouth. He couldn't control his squirming and the arching of his back as Motomi dragged his lips up his length, tracing his tongue along the underside. It was the best thing Akira had ever felt. By far.

Motomi drew it in and out, in and out, at a deliberately slow pace that almost hurt. Akira's hips tried to buck into Motomi's mouth, his breathy moans filling the air. His head was absolutely spinning with pleasure as that wet, inviting heat threatened to destroy his sanity. It left him for a moment, the bedsprings creaking slightly as he felt Motomi move, reaching for the nightstand drawer off to the side. He looked down, but by the time his eyes blinked into focus in the dark, Motomi was back where he started. He glanced in Akira's direction as he swirled his tongue around the head of Akira's cock. Akira had to turn away, putting his arm over his eyes. It was much too obscene to look...or at least, be caught looking.

He was startled when something cold touched his skin; something wet prodding between his legs, seeking his entrance. His muscles tensed, and he gulped, nervous, but didn't fight it. One lubed-up finger slipped inside him without much resistance. Akira let out a breath he'd been holding. It was absolutely bizarre, though he couldn't call it bad. After he'd had only moments to grow accustomed to it, that unbearable heat was suddenly back when Motomi took in his cock down to the hilt. Getting sucked off came as a welcome distraction from the increased tightness as Motomi put a second finger in him.

Motomi heard every little sigh and moan, felt Akira squirm under his touch, and was spurred on by all of it. He hoped the fingers thrusting into Akira weren't too rough, but it was getting harder and harder to keep his head cool. He'd been waiting just as long as Akira. His limits were just as tested...no, much more. It had been years since he'd done anything like this, and just feeling Akira's unbelievably tight insides was making his arousal throb painfully. He upped it to three fingers. Akira gave a sharp gasp; it sounded painful. He dragged his lips up Akira's cock in an especially long, hard suck.

He let it pop out of his mouth, and Akira was so hard it stood nearly flat against his stomach. He raked his eyes up to Akira's face, still hidden behind his arm, and watched him while finger-fucking him. Akira's breathing was heavy, and his legs were trembling. Softly kissing the inside of Akira's thigh, Motomi prayed his judgement was unclouded when he decided it must be not from pain, but need. "I can stop now, if you want," he murmured quietly, even as he spread out Akira's ass.

Akira immediately shook his head. "Don't," he whispered. Motomi's touch left him, and it almost pissed Akira off. He heard a rustling of fabric that could only be Motomi losing his pants, and a moment later, he gasped when he felt his knees lifted and shoved apart. He dared a look in Motomi's direction, where he saw him positioned between his legs, tearing open a condom wrapper with his teeth. Akira gulped and looked away, his heart starting to pound. Seconds later Motomi's cock, hard and slick, ran its length along his entrance. It seemed a deliberate tease, the way he slid it through the cleft of Akira's ass without penetrating. In spite of himself, it made Akira shudder in anticipation.

The head of Motomi's cock pressed against the tight ring of muscle and slowly, achingly forced its way inside. Akira gave a slight groan at the intrusion, but Motomi didn't pause. At the same unbearable pace he shoved it in, inch by inch. Akira's mouth fell open, making almost no sound save for a choked gasp. Even with the preparation and everything...he could hardly believe how thick it felt. His body screamed at him, a sharp pain as he was stretched open. " _Aah-!!_ " He choked back his cry, not out of bashfulness this time, but not wanting Motomi to know it hurt. It didn't matter; he could tell.

The larger man leaned down on top of him, moving in for a kiss. He pecked him a few times, pressed his lower lip against Akira's upper one, and invaded with his tongue when Akira let him. Slowly he moved forward, penetrating Akira deeper and deeper, making him groan into his lips. For long seconds he didn't stop kissing him, muffling Akira's voice while their bodies drew closer and closer. At last he broke away, his breath uneven, and buried his face in the nape of Akira's neck. "Akira," he sighed into his skin. "I'm all the way...inside you..."

After that, he stayed still. Akira was surprised; It wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be. It felt incredibly tight, no doubt about that, but that sharp pain faded off into more of a dull ache, and gradually it was becoming less and less. He heaved slow, deep breaths, with Motomi waiting patiently for him to adjust. With a turn of his head, his face brushed Motomi's hair. Akira closed his eyes and sighed into the soft tresses, taking in his scent. He smelled amazing. He wondered why he hadn't noticed before, and he couldn't quite decide if it was his shampoo or more of a natural musk or a mix of the two, but it filled him with a sort of desperate fondness.

Glancing over Motomi's back, his eyes fell on the window, on the glowing crescent visible through the blinds. He became acutely aware of the sound of Motomi's breathing, and the searing heat everywhere their bodies met. Everything about this moment burned itself into Akira's mind. He needed more. He wrapped his legs around Motomi's waist and tried to buck against him. Motomi's breath hitched, and he instantly got the message. His arms circled around Akira's back, holding him steady while he pulled his hips back. When he was nearly all the way out, he came back in, still slow, but ten times as fast as the first entry, hissing between his teeth at the tightness that encased him.

Akira's hands fisted in the sheets, giving a sharp inhale that turned into a long moan. It shocked him the way his voice had become so detached, that it was no longer something he consciously controlled, it just _happened_. Another one slipped out, higher in pitch, when Motomi's teeth latched onto his neck and he was thrust into once again, even faster. The bed creaked rhythmically while he was rocked into over and over again, the rough sucking of his neck never ceasing. Motomi's pace was getting faster and faster, his breath coming in low groans that reverberated into Akira's throat. Akira was getting light-headed.

The pain was now more of an afterthought, starting to be drowned out by pleasure. His erection rubbed between their stomachs, adding to the building feeling below. He felt one of Motomi's hands slide down to his hips, grabbing him for leverage with an especially harsh thrust. Instantly Akira cried out. Something about that angle was hitting in _exactly_ the right place. Motomi stopped for the briefest second, pulling back to look at his face, thinking he'd hurt him. He didn't even have time to ask. Akira bit his lip and moaned, pulling him in closer with his legs, silently saying 'more'.

He didn't need to be told twice.

Motomi aimed for that spot and fucking _pounded_ it like it was going out of style. The only thing he wanted at that moment was to make Akira scream like that again. His face pressed into the curve of Akira's neck, he panted heavily, gripping his smaller body tightly while plowing into it rough and hard. Akira wrapped his arms around Motomi's shoulders and his fingers dug into the flesh, sure to leave scratch marks, but he desperately needed to anchor himself to something because that heady feeling was back and getting stronger and stronger. His legs trembled from the force he exerted gripping Motomi between his thighs. His voice filled the air with trills and whines and Motomi savored every single one.

"Akira...Akira..." He breathed the name repeatedly. His hand slipped between the two of them and found Akira's arousal, and started pumping him in the same frantic rhythm with which he drove Akira's body down into the mattress. Akira was already so pent-up, it wasn't going to take much.

"Ahh...fuck... _fuck--cu--aahh!!_ " Waves of pleasure crashed over his body, set every one of his nerves on fire. Within an embarrassingly short couple of seconds, Akira arched his back violently, letting out a choked cry when he came. It spilled over Motomi's hand, stained both of their stomachs, and his legs squeezed Motomi's body tighter than ever, going tense and making his toes curl. The force between his hips barely stopped for a second. It took Motomi longer, but not by much. He took hold of Akira's leg and shoved it up to his chest, angling to get inside him deeper, making the younger man squeal while his thrusts became erratic and desperate. With a harsh hitch of his breath and a guttural moan, he followed and climaxed inside Akira.

Both collapsed, a sweaty, post-coital mess of breath-catching, coming down from their high. Neither moved for a long time. Akira felt a slight heat pricking at his eyes, and noticed tears has formed in their corners. He wasn't sure when, or why. Eventually he felt the weight of Motomi's body lift off him, and he was vaguely aware that the other man was cleaning up the cum from his lower body. Somewhere in the back of his mind, once the ability for coherent thought had returned, a realization sprang forth. _Well, that's it then_ , he thought. _I can officially say I'm not a virgin anymore_. He hazily began to wonder, if someone had told him a few weeks ago he'd lose it to a guy 20 years older than him, how he'd have reacted. The thought alone made him laugh under his breath.

\---

With another long drag on his cigarette, Motomi ventured a glance at the silent form beside him. Akira hadn't taken long at all to pass out, and was now sound asleep. His sleeping face brought on a strange sense of what Motomi could only call deja-vu, even though it was, of course, the first time he'd seen it. Maybe it was closer to nostalgia, but that didn't make a lot of sense either. He reached out to brush aside a strand of hair that had fallen over the young man's eyes, hoping it wouldn't be enough to wake him. His eyelid twitched, but he remained still, his breath slow and even, showing no signs of waking up.

 _He's kind of a weird kid_ , he thought affectionately. He never quite knew what was going through Akira's head, and just when he'd think he had him more or less figured out, suddenly he'd say or do something completely unexpected, and he'd be back to square one. But that was okay, he decided, as he watched him sleep peacefully. Motomi was used to people he could dissect, people he could predict. That could get boring fast. Akira was a lot more interesting.

Suddenly he realized he'd been staring at Akira's face, and he wasn't sure how long he'd been watching him. He glanced away, thinking how weird he'd look if Akira were to wake up and catch him staring. Putting his cigarette back between his lips, he looked instead out the window, but within moments his line of sight had wandered back to Akira. It was almost like he needed to check he was still there, like something about this didn't seem quite real. It _had_ been quite a few years since he shared a bed with anyone.

 _...He's awfully cute_. That thought wouldn't leave him alone, either. It was obvious, he'd known that right from the moment they met, but still...it wasn't like good-looking 20-something guys just fall into your lap every day. Especially not the kind that shyly ask you out, or unexpectedly kiss you on the pier, or hold your hand on the train, or aggressively take your clothes off and somehow manage to look innocent at the same time. A grin tugged at the corner of Motomi's mouth, and he stamped his cigarette into the ash tray. It was getting late; he should get some sleep too.

He moved down closer to Akira, pulling the covers over the two of them. He wouldn't mind cuddling, would he? Nah, he wouldn't. Motomi was careful not to disturb him as he put his arms around him, pulling him in close, nuzzling slightly into his hair. Akira let out a faint whine, and stirred, but didn't wake up. With a heavy sigh Motomi felt his own exhaustion set in, and began to drift off. His last conscious thought was to silently make a request of Akira. _Don't break my heart, okay?_

That was, until several minutes later, when Akira groaned audibly, making Motomi snap awake. " _Doooon't_ ," he murmured, as Motomi moved away from him slightly to see what was the matter. "He's mine...go get your own..."

He was talking in his sleep? What on earth was he dreaming about?

"Mmm...he's my...rainbow goat...give him back..."

Motomi snorted, biting his lip to stifle his laughter and planting a little kiss on Akira's head.

\---

The first thing Akira noticed, for some reason, wasn't that he was still naked as he lie curled up in the blankets in Motomi's bed. That would hit him mere seconds later, but the _first_ thing he noticed was that he was in that bed alone. Still heavy with grogginess, he sat up and glanced around the room now flooded with daylight. Bits and pieces of last night came back to him, perhaps most prominently the warm body he'd spent the night pressed against, and for a moment its inexplicable absence bothered him. He blinked, clearing the haze from his eyes, and focused on the glowing numbers of the digital clock beside him. Maybe not so inexplicable after all...he'd slept in pretty late. Of course Motomi was already up.

Clearing his throat, he realized he was dreadfully parched. He stumbled towards the connected bathroom, ran the ice-cold tap over a cupped hand and brought it to his lips, drinking a first handful and rubbing a second over his face. After rubbing his eyes, he looked at himself in the mirror. His jaw almost dropped. Angry red love bites stood out stark on his pale skin, one on each side of his neck. He inspected them and hoped anxiously that no one at school would notice. Maybe it wouldn't be too weird to wear a scarf indoors...

He went back to Motomi's room to gather his articles of clothing unmoved from their haphazard landing places of the previous night. After dressing, he cautiously leaned out the door into the hallway. There were sounds coming from the kitchen. Strangely unsure of himself, he stepped quietly down the hall. Awaiting him at the end was a slightly unexpected sight.

Yup, Motomi was up all right, and probably had been for a while. He noticed Akira right away, looking back over his shoulder. He gave Akira a once-over and chuckled. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty." Akira instinctively brushed a hand over his hair in a feeble attempt to fix his bed-head. Which was a bit silly, since the other man hadn't even bothered to dress himself. He stood before a sizzling frying pan, spatula in hand, covered only by a blue apron, boxers and an undershirt. Akira wasn't sure what to comment on first; his attire, or the fact that he was cooking with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

He chose neither (to expect Motomi to not smoke in any given situation was to fight a losing battle). Akira shook his head slightly, and instead, eyeing the cracked eggshells on the countertop, asked "Whatcha making?"

"Fried rice omelette," he said, his attention returned the frying pan. Akira moved a bit closer, and he had to give it to Motomi, it looked like he knew what he was doing. "You mentioned it's your favorite, right?"

"Ah..." Thinking back, Akira did recall mentioning it was his favorite food. It surprised him that he'd remembered what Akira considered a fairly small detail. "You're right, it is."

"You won't be late for class if you stay for breakfast, will you?" Motomi focused on skillfully folding the eggs as he spoke. "I can give you a ride, if you want."

Akira shook his head. "No, yeah, I have some time." Transfixed on Motomi's cooking, he was distracted only when he heard a low whistle.

" _Damn_. This my handiwork? You must bruise easy." With his free hand Motomi pulled at the collar of Akira's shirt, admiring the hickeys he'd left. Akira quickly slapped his hands over them, stepping out of reach while blushing furiously.

"I hope you know you're gonna pay for those," Akira muttered. Motomi, of course, just beamed at him, taking the threat as seriously as any of Akira's others. Slumping back against the counter, Akira 'hmmph'ed. After a few seconds of silence, he added, "Thanks for making breakfast." Motomi nodded.

"It's nothing. You're in my house, after all."

"Did you even get any sleep last night?" Akira wondered aloud.

"Sure I did. Oh!" Motomi brought his hand to his chin, like he'd suddenly remembered something important. He looked at Akira pointedly, just barely managing to keep a straight face. "Did you ever get your rainbow goat back?"

"My...my _what_ now?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thirsty for comments, guys. It can be anything, just something to let me know people are actually reading this. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

"Well, don't you look a bit lonely." A voice caught Akira's attention and he turned, greeted by the sight of an unfamiliar man. In his thirties, perhaps? Bright blonde hair, an expensive-looking suit, and a lecherous gaze. Before Akira could think of anything to say, the man was sitting beside him. "You should let me buy you a drink," he posited boldly.

Akira shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Oh, uh..." Despite his first impression of it looking expensive, Akira noticed with a longer look at the man's attire that his suit was terribly tacky. The dim lighting in here just made it hard to tell. The neon color of his shirt clashed badly with an animal-print tie, and the scent he wore was overpowering (if Akira wasn't mistaken, it was supposed to be strawberry?).

"Thank you," he stammered, "but actually, I'm here with someone." Speaking of which, just how damn long was Motomi going to take in the bathroom already?

The blonde man hardly seemed rejected. "Oh? I should've known," he drawled, eyes raking down Akira in a terribly unsettling manner. Akira nervously looked down, the man's legs crossed and his reptile-skin shoes glinting in the faint light. The man combed back a hand through his long, meticulously-styled hair. "Someone like you would-- _you!_ " He stopped mid-sentence and looked over Akira's shoulder.

"Arbitro?!" Motomi's voice came from behind him, making Akira spin around.

"You...you know each other?" He asked Motomi.

"Unfortunately," he answered, not seeming to care that the other man could hear. Suddenly the atmosphere was very tense. Akira glanced back over at Arbitro, then back to Motomi, not sure what to do as they silently stared each other down.

"It sure has been a while, hasn't it?" Arbitro finally said with a fake grin.

"Not long enough," Akira heard Motomi mutter under his breath as he sat on Akira's other side.

"Imagine running into you here, of all places!" he continued as if Motomi had said nothing, with enthusiasm as false as the smile across his face. "And with someone _half your age_ , my my." Akira, intensely uncomfortable, watched Motomi as he shot a sideways glare in Arbitro's direction, icy enough to send a shudder through his spine. He hadn't thought Motomi capable of quite that level of hostility. "So, this is your..."

Instantly Motomi put an arm around Akira, as if marking his territory. "Boyfriend, yes," he finished Arbitro's sentence for him. "What of it?" Akira looked back and forth between the two men, feeling horribly caught in the middle of their...whatever this was. The corner of Arbitro's mouth twitched, and he scoffed openly.

"Well, isn't that just great for you." He stood up, brushing the front of his polyester jacket as he looked down at the pair. He gave them a smug smile and began to walk away, but not before remarking, directed at Akira, "You could do a lot better."

Akira gaped slightly for a second as Arbitro left, not sure what to make of what just happened. When he looked at Motomi, he was glaring daggers in Arbitro's direction, grumbling expletives under his breath. "Fucking nerve of that guy," he said. "Yeah, that's right, walk away before I bash your fuckin' face in..."

"Motomi!"

"Ah-- sorry," Motomi said. "Wish you didn't have to see all that."

"Who the hell was that?"

"A former colleague," he sighed, picking up his drink from the bar. "Last person I expected to bump into..."

"Why exactly do you hate him so much?"

"It's a long story," he sighed heavily and waved his hand. "Don't wanna get into the details right now. But trust me, I've got reasons." He scowled for a moment, and took another sip from his glass. "And to find him hitting on you, of all things... _gross_."

Speaking of which, Motomi had been awfully quick to refer to Akira as his 'boyfriend'...not a title he was used to hearing. He couldn't help cracking a sly smile at him. "Didn't know you were the jealous type," he said.

Motomi looked surprised. "I...I'm not the jealous type," he stammered. "Just pissed me off, that's all..." He huffed and put his glass back on the bar, perhaps a little too hard. After a moment, he noticed Akira staring. "What?"

"You were in such a good mood a few minutes ago."

"Naturally," he said with a smile. "Because I'm here with you." The unpleasantness with Arbitro apparently forgotten, he moved close to Akira - very close - circling an arm around his waist and nuzzling against his hair. Immediately a heat rose to Akira's face, and his 'we shouldn't do this in public' reflex kicked in. But, he had to remind himself, they were in the kind of place where two guys being like this was expected, so there wasn't much he could say.

"You really have to do this here?" he mumbled, but his resistance was half-hearted, not even pushing Motomi away.

"Why not?" Motomi chuckled softly near his ear and kissed it.

"Nng--! Stop that..." At that he did push away, sighing and muttering something about tipsy old men having no shame, which Motomi didn't seem to notice.

"Hey, Akira..." His eyes caught Akira's. Something about the way he looked right now...happy, yes, but strangely serious. And his voice, too, held the same kind of emotion. He was silent for a long moment.

"...Yes?"

"Let's take a picture!" he said excitedly. Akira looked dumbfounded as Motomi pulled out his phone, holding it out and pulling Akira into frame.

"I don't see the point of--"

"Okay, smile!" Motomi interrupted him, pressing the shutter button. He seemed pretty pleased with the result. "Wow, you actually did smile for once!"

"I look stupid in that," Akira said. "Delete it."

"Nah, you look cute," Motomi assured him, admiring his picture. "I'm keeping it." Akira leaned into his palm and sighed, knowing there was no use arguing. And, he mused with a smile hidden behind his hand, at least the old man was happy.

\---

Akira licked a drop of his homemade sauce from his fingertip, deciding that the flavor was good. Acceptable, anyway. He held his hand over the frying pan to check the heat. Still not quite hot enough. "Got tired of takeout and instant ramen, did you?" He looked over at Keisuke, leaning against the refrigerator with a can of tea in hand, watching his every move.

"I can cook real food if I want to," Akira muttered.

"I only can distinctly recall you actually cooking once," Keisuke said. He shuddered visibly. "It's...not a good memory."

"I'm not gonna burn anything this time."

"The kitchen included?" This earned him an icy cold glare from Akira. "S-sorry! It would just really suck if I had to call the fire department the one time I actually came all the way out here." Akira 'hmmph'ed, ignoring him and checking the temperature once more. He threw his yakisoba into the pan, shoving it around with a spatula. This kind of thing was new to him, admittedly, as Keisuke wasn't wrong about him living off instant and takeout up until now. And he did accidentally set fire to a few things in the past, he had him there. Still, he felt he'd made real progress. Motomi even tried his cooking last week and liked it.

Well...he _said_ he liked it. And he ate all of it. And didn't become ill afterwards. Progress is progress.

"Is it really necessary to watch me like a hawk?" Akira asked. "I said I'm not gonna burn it."

"I know," Keisuke said, still keeping a close eye on him. He took a sip of his tea and crossed his arms. "Sooo," he started after a bit. "D'you, like, have a picture of him?"

Akira didn't need to ask who he meant. Keisuke had been awfully inquisitive regarding him ever since he got here. "I might. Why?"

"Just curious," Keisuke mumbled.

Akira pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped through received files. Motomi sent him a lot of pictures, sometimes of random things that caught his eye, sometimes of himself, or sometimes shots of Akira that he'd take when Akira wasn't paying attention. Considering these were the ones he sent, he didn't even want to know how many the man had taken and hoarded for himself. There were probably even a few of him sleeping. At last he found it, the one of both of them at the bar. Akira still thought he looked stupid, but didn't delete it regardless. He showed it to Keisuke, who hummed as he considered it. "Not looking bad for his forties," he muttered.

"Far from it," Akira said simply, putting his phone back in his pocket and returning his attention to his frying pan. He poured his sauce over the noodles, pleased with the quiet sizzle and the faintly savory smell that drifted up to his nose.

"Did you learn to cook from him?"

"Not really."

"How'd you meet him?"

Akira suddenly felt a heat under his collar. There was no way he could answer that question honestly. Frowning, he answered Keisuke's question with a question. "Why do you keep asking about him so much, anyway?"

Keisuke hadn't expected that. He looked up and furrowed his brow, like he had to ask himself the same thing. Why indeed? "I guess I'm trying to understand, is all."

"What's to understand?"

"There's plenty," Keisuke muttered. "It doesn't make any sense, least of all with someone like you." He tensed when he saw how Akira's eyes narrowed at him, in a way he'd come to recognize over the years as a warning. I'm not mad at you _yet_ , it said, but I will be if you're not careful. It would usually shut him up right away.

"Someone like me," Akira repeated dryly.

"Y-yeah. I mean, level with me here Akira," he said. "How long do you expect this thing to last?" Akira raised an eyebrow, as if encouraging him to continue only out of morbid curiosity. "W-wouldn't it, you know..." Keisuke's eyes darted about when he struggled to find his words. "...make more sense to be with someone your own age?"

"Like who?" Akira's tone got even sharper. Keisuke opened his mouth to say something and quickly closed it again, eyes downcast. In the end he only shrugged and mumbled inaudibly. Akira felt his hands clench tightly into fists. He laughed a laugh devoid of any mirth. "Guess I was wrong to think you were on my side, huh?"

Keisuke looked surprised. "I am on your--"

"BULLSHIT." Akira interrupted him, his rage boiling over. "If you were, you wouldn't have to question it, and you wouldn't be trying to change my mind!"

Keisuke shrank back, flinching slightly the way he always did when he was yelled at. "Akira--"

"I thought you said the only thing that mattered was if I was happy or not, what ever happened to that? But if you don't think I can be trusted to make my own decisions either, then--"

"Akira!"

"What?!"

Keisuke pathetically pointed at the frying pan. "It's gonna burn..." Akira turned and huffed, ignoring him to turn the heat down and keep the noodles from burning. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like..." Keisuke chewed his lip, looking more down than a scolded puppy. "Shit, I guess I offended you. Sorry," he apologized again.

"It's fine," Akira sighed.

There was a long silence, uncomfortable only for one of them.

"I've been looking out for you since we were practically babies," Keisuke said quietly. "It's sorta hard to stop, even though I know you don't need me to anymore." He laughed, a hint of self-deprecation evident as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you never needed me to, I guess, since it was usually _you_ getting _me_ out of trouble."

Akira looked Keisuke up and down, remembering what he thought the first time he'd told him about Motomi. That he acted like an overprotective big brother. It softened his anger a bit. "Yeah, I know. You probably just don't want me to get mixed up with some bad person, is that it?"

Keisuke perked right up, and Akira could almost see his tail start to wag. "Y-yeah! That's it exactly."

"Well don't worry so much," Akira said. "He's not a bad person, if he were I wouldn't get involved with him."

Keisuke nodded. "Yes, I know, but...you don't think he's, you know..." Akira waited expectantly for him to finish his thought. Keisuke's cheeks darkened a shade or two, and he couldn't keep his eyes on Akira's face. He finally spoke, mumbling into his fist. "He's not just...using you for sex?"

Akira was blindsided. He turned bright red, shaking his head rapidly. "N-no, no no no no no, I think you've totally got the wrong idea. Definitely, definitely not."

"A-alright, if you're sure," Keisuke muttered into his can, taking a long sip from it.

"Of course I am!" Akira spat. "He's seriously not that kind of guy at all. It's not like he ever pressured me into anything..." His voice got lower and lower as he continued, until it almost seemed he was talking more to himself than Keisuke. "I mean, even that time he wanted me to wear lacy womens' underwear I only did it because I was fine with it..."

He was interrupted by a loud sputtering and saw that Keisuke had catastrophically spit out his drink. Akira gaped at his friend doubled-over, coughing into his hand and dripping all over the floor. By the look of him, it even came out his nose. "S-sorry," Akira said, awkwardly handing Keisuke a towel. "That...was probably too much information..."

While Keisuke attempted to clean up the mess he'd made, Akira shoved the finished (and only slightly burnt) yakisoba on two plates and started digging through an unorganized drawer to find clean chopsticks. "If you knew him you'd understand," he said after a minute.

"Huh?"

"He isn't the type that lies or takes advantage of people," he said. "He's...really honest." Akira paused to sample his creation, slurping up some noodles and deciding it was a moderate success.

"I see," Keisuke said slowly.

"He's kind. He always puts others ahead of himself," he continued, again with an air like he was talking more to himself than Keisuke. "Like all he cares about is making someone else happy." He didn't notice that he'd begun to smile. "The type of guy that would take a day off from work and take care of you if you were sick, something like that. And he remembers little details, as if they were important."

"Jeez." Keisuke chuckled. "The way you carry on, it almost sounds like you're in love with the guy." Akira snapped out of his daydreamy state and looked at Keisuke, his eyes wide. His mouth hung slightly open.

"I..."

He looked that way for so long Keisuke had to wave a hand in front of his eyes. "Akira?"

"I think maybe I am," Akira said quietly.

"Are you just noticing this _now?!_ "

"Oh my god. Keisuke!!" He grabbed Keisuke's shoulders, flying into a panic. "I am!! What do I do?!"

"C-calm down, calm down!!" Keisuke grabbed Akira's hands and pulled them off so he'd stop shaking him. "Just take it easy!"

"How can I take it easy?! What am I supposed to do?!!"

Keisuke tilted his head a bit to one side. "Have you considered telling him?" Akira fell silent, blinking at Keisuke.

"...telling him," he echoed after a moment.

"Yes."

"Telling _him_."

" _Yes_. Am I not saying it right or something?" Suddenly seeming disinterested in either Keisuke or his food, Akira slowly walked away, muttering quietly to himself as he did. "Uh...Akira? What are you doing?"

He appeared to be wandering towards his bed. "I need to lie down," he announced.

\---

"And then this one, this is my favorite from the whole set. Don't you think it's cool? The timing was really lucky."

Akira closely considered the photograph his younger classmate showed him, and as with the others, he nodded in agreement, pretending to understand. He didn't really see what made this one better than the others, but he chalked it up to being ignorant about photography. Nor did he quite understand Rin's choice of subject matter, as most of the pictures seemed to be of old broken things, dilapidated structures, dead or dying plants, sad and lonely-looking things. Even a half-decayed animal here and there. But at least the guy knew what he liked, and was passionate about it; even Akira could see that. "Yeah, it's good."

Rin beamed. "I'm pretty proud of it. The lighting was perfect! Did you know right when the sun starts to set is the best time for outdoor pictures? I bet you didn't know that."

Akira shook his head. He didn't always understand what Rin was going on about; he was talkative enough as it was, never mind on this particular topic. But Akira didn't mind listening to him one bit. He was, after all, the first person at this school that had tried to talk to him, so Akira reasoned he had to be a decent person.

He must have looked bored, because Rin slightly withdrew his print and gave an embarrassed smile. "Sorry...you don't find them interesting, huh?"

"A-ah, no, no," Akira said quickly. "That's not it at all." He knew people often misinterpreted his default expression as boredom...he supposed he'd have to work on that. He smiled. "They're really good. You could be a professional."

"Oh no, it's just a hobby," Rin insisted bashfully while he carefully put his treasured pictures back into his bag. "Something to do with my free time, that's all." He got off the concrete ledge he and Akira sat on, reaching straight up with both arms and stretching. Akira glanced around; still no sign of Motomi. He gave a little sigh, his breath forming a cloud in front of his face. "Hey! Yanno what?!" Rin suddenly exclaimed and turned to Akira. "You should go with me to get ice cream!"

"Ice cream?" Akira repeated. A little cold for that, he thought.

"Yeah, there's this really yummy place that opened up a few blocks from here! Wanna go?"

Akira took a few seconds to form an answer, surprised by the invitation. "Sorry, can't today," he said. "I'm kinda waiting for my ride." It made him feel a little bad, watching the boy's face turn straight from excitement to disappointed pout. "B-but next time, definitely," he added, and could tell it softened the blow. He thought it was endearing to see someone who wore their heart right out on their sleeve.

"Okay! I'll hold you to it!" Rin said with a bright smile. "Say, haven't you been waiting here a long time?"

"He is a little late," Akira said. "It's..." 'nothing new', he was going to add, but stopped. He'd glanced around again and at a distance, coming around the corner, he saw a familiar-looking man in a tan overcoat. "Ah, speak of the devil." Akira stood up and waved to catch Motomi's attention. "'Bout time," he chuckled to Rin as Motomi spotted him and started to approach. "Maybe he got lost." He looked at Rin, and the smile fell from his face. Rin was...looking at Motomi very oddly. His eyes had gotten a bit wide, and he stood stock still, saying nothing to Akira.

"Oh shoot! I gotta go," Rin spat out suddenly, his cheerful aura back in place. "Seeya later, Akira!" Without another second's hesitation, without even waiting for a goodbye, Rin turned on his heel and was off in the opposite direction. Dumbfounded, Akira stared at his back for a moment.

"Uh...bye," he mumbled. Now that was just plain weird. He didn't have a lot of time to ponder it before he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Motomi said. "Would you believe I had the wrong building?"

"Is that so?" Akira said. The taller man was leaning with his face awfully close, inspecting Akira's for a second before he reached up and touched his lip, swiping his thumb across it.

"Akira, your lips are really chapped," he remarked. "Don't you use lip balm or anything?"

"Sure I do," Akira said once Motomi's hand was gone. Reflexively, he stuck out his tongue and licked where he'd just touched.

"Gah, don't lick it!" He scolded. "You'll make it worse!" He laughed a little at Akira, who felt a heat rise to his face. The instinct to get mad or tell him off was fading from Akira more and more the longer he'd known Motomi, it seemed. The man's eyes were as kind as ever, and for a moment he couldn't think of anything besides how glad he was to see them again. It had been a relatively short time, but he'd missed them.

Akira 'hmmph'd and pulled his scarf over his face. Motomi started off the same way he'd came, and Akira followed. "Sorry, but I thought it was on the other side of the campus," he explained, "so I'm parked kinda far."

"No worries," Akira sighed. Upping his pace a little to be level with Motomi, he recalled Rin's strange, sudden departure a minute ago. Did it mean that he knew him? How? He wanted to find out, but he wasn't sure how to not sound weird about it. "So, that guy that was with me just now," he began.

"Mm?"

"We've been talking a lot lately...so, I guess you could say I finally made a friend here."

"No kidding?" Motomi looked delighted for him. "See, I told you you would, didn't I?"

"Yeah, yeah." He didn't want to make it a big deal. He casually added, "His name's Rin."

"Rin, huh? Kinda girly." Well, he wasn't really reacting to the name. And he'd definitely seen him just now, and if he knew him he'd say something...right? Akira shook his head as if to shake it out of his brain. No point worrying about it, if he didn't know him he didn't know him. "Say, how's Keisuke? He was at your place the other night, wasn't he?"

That snapped Akira out of his thoughts. "Y-yeah, he's fine." Thinking about Keisuke made him recall that conversation and THAT made him think about...what Keisuke told him he should do. Akira gulped, his stomach getting fluttery.

_Just tell him._

Yeah, easier said than done. He'd told himself he was gonna do it, but with Motomi right here, in the flesh, walking along next to him, suddenly he realized how hard it actually was. The butterflies in his gut were going so crazy he thought he might get nauseous. He hadn't been this nervous since their first date.

 _What's the matter with me?_ he asked himself. _Is it really that difficult?_ It wasn't saying the words that was hard, exactly, it was not knowing what came next. He'd run the scenario through his head over and over countless times in just the last two days, and of course he knew the sort of response he wanted.

What if he didn't get it? He didn't know exactly what he was to Motomi. What if Motomi didn't...feel the same way? Akira wasn't sure he could handle that sort of humiliation. He honestly felt like he'd want to go hide in a hole and just die. Damn it, now he really was feeling nauseous.

"Akira?" His heart almost leapt out of his rib cage when Motomi's voice broke the silence. At this time of day, hardly anyone was around, and every sound rung in the freezing winter air. It felt that way to him, anyway. He looked up at the other man, realizing he'd been silent for a long time.

"Huh?"

"Anything wrong?"

Akira shook his head rapidly. Nope, this was impossible. No way. Couldn't do it. "I'm fine," he insisted with a convincingly faked calmness. He had to distract himself. Talk about something else, anything. "Keisuke got on my nerves a little bit," Akira said, that being the first thing to come to mind.

"What else is new?" Motomi smirked.

"He asked about you a lot."

"Really? What kinda things?"

"I don't know...random stuff. The specifics don't matter," Akira sighed. "The point is, he said all this shit about our relationship, like that it doesn't make sense for me to be with you or whatever."

"...I see," Motomi said plainly. Were they almost to his car yet? Shit, he really did park far.

"Yeah. And something about how it would be smarter for me to be with someone my own age."

Motomi laughed after a short hesitation. "Yeah, he's got a point there," he said.

Akira stopped dead in his tracks. Motomi didn't notice, and was a few paces ahead of him before Akira spoke. "Is that what you really think?" Motomi looked back, surprised by how serious his voice had suddenly become.

"Oh, no," Motomi stammered awkwardly after a few seconds. "That's--"

"I told him that doesn't matter to me at all, you know?" Akira was struggling to stop his voice from wavering. Every negative thought that he'd been trying to force down was bubbling up all at once. It became a fear in the pit of his stomach that grabbed hold of him, forcing words that had only festered inside until now to come spilling out. "But if he's right, why waste our time? Just break up with me right now."

"What? I...no, no no!" Motomi shook his head and waved his hands. "You got it wrong, that's not how I meant it at all!" He was really backpedaling now. He grabbed Akira's shoulders, though the younger man's eyes wouldn't meet his face. "Listen, Akira, I'm so lucky that I met you, I can't even believe it. I still don't know what the hell I did to deserve you. I wouldn't fucking _dream_ of giving you up."

Akira looked up, wondering if he really meant what he said. "...Lucky?"

"Of course! Are you kidding?! I mean, seriously, at my age?! I never thought there was any way I'd be able to fall in love again! I'm so..." He trailed off, exhaling hard and shaking his head. It was the most emotion Akira could recall him ever showing at once. "I'm so very, very lucky, to have you," he finished, eventually. He got a sharp pang of guilt for making Akira look so sad. "Aww, jeez, look at that face," he said, giving an apologetic smile. "It just...came out wrong, that's all. I'm sorry. You mad at me?"

Akira silently shook his head.

"Good," Motomi breathed with relief. "Let's get home already, then..." He'd started to turn away, but was stopped by Akira's hand tugging at his sleeve.

Did he not even notice? In the midst of blurting all those things out, did he not even realize what he said? Akira sure noticed. The second he heard that word, it was like a light blinked on inside, illuminating that confession and making it replay in his head over and over. He said it...there was no mistake, he definitely said it. Motomi looked a little confused, probably wondering what Akira was thinking.

He admitted it first. So, now that he did...

Akira blushed as he looked at Motomi. His heart was pounding so intensely, he thought maybe even Motomi could hear it right now. That fluttering in his stomach was back, but for some reason this time, it felt good. His breath had mysteriously vanished, but he found just enough of it to form the words. "I love you, too."

It felt like such a long silence, in which neither of them moved and even time felt frozen around them. His heart still couldn't calm down, not after he worked up enough courage to make that declaration for the first time. Akira wasn't sure what to make of Motomi's face as he stared back at him; maybe he was caught off-guard, maybe he truly hadn't noticed what he said. _Come on, quit staring at me like that...say something. Say anything._

Motomi closed the distance between them and kissed Akira. His hands wound up on either side of Akira's face, pulling him in. His calloused fingers, as always, were only a little rough against Akira's skin, and gradually they ended up threaded in his hair. The heat of the man's lips burned where they consumed him. In an instant Akira's arms were around Motomi's body, and he kissed him back. His hands gripped tightly at the wool-covered back, hanging on desperately as Motomi's kiss so overflowed with passion Akira thought he might lose his balance and topple right over.

A little whimper escaped Akira's throat. The world around them had all but ceased to exist for a short while as he let Motomi answer him with something better than words. After who knows how long, they finally broke away. Akira peered up at him breathlessly and saw Motomi was smiling with his eyes. The older man gave a contented little sigh, still holding Akira's face, stroking his cheek softly. Akira reached up and touched his hands. His own were so cold, but Motomi's were nice and warm.

This man had only been a part of Akira's life for a short time. Not even two months, a tiny fraction of his twenty-two years. His presence in Motomi's life was even tinier fraction, a mere blip on the scale of his existence. It felt like he'd known him forever, and it felt like he met him yesterday. Though he couldn't read minds, he could feel Motomi's sincerity coming through loud and clear, and he wasn't afraid. He still had so much to learn about Motomi, even with all he already knew. The prospect excited him. For a moment, the love Akira felt overwhelmed him.

"Let's go home," he muttered quietly. Motomi gave a slightly puzzled look at the sudden suggestion. Akira looked him straight in the eye. "Let's hurry and go home," he repeated, his cheeks flushed. "I need to...I need to be alone with you right now."

\---

No sooner had Motomi started driving then Akira knew his body wasn't going to be patient. His hand ended up on the man's leg within seconds, stroking up and down his thigh. Motomi read his very obvious signals and was driving as fast as he legally could...maybe just a little over. He let out a surprised yelp when Akira's hand ended up fondling his crotch. "Akira, what are you doing?!"

Akira didn't answer, continuing to grope between his legs with little regard to the safety hazard that molesting someone behind the wheel might create. When he wouldn't stop, Motomi knew he'd have to pull over and hopefully talk some sense into him. It was a fortunate thing that he passed by a desolate alley, because by the time he swerved into it and came to a stop, Akira was unzipping his pants before he even had time to say anything. "Akira, for pity's sake!! Can't you wait until we get home?!" Akira unbuckled himself and then Motomi, and leaned over his body. Apparently not. He loosened Motomi's pants enough to reach in, stroking him skin-to-skin.

"This is a really bad idea," Motomi stammered. "Have you noticed where we are?"

"I know," Akira mumbled. "I don't wanna wait." Motomi tried to think up more protests, but before they'd fully formed, Akira's head went down and put his mouth around his dick. He cursed under his breath and looked in all directions out the windows.

He was crazy. Absolutely crazy. Someone could walk by at any second and see them, didn't he realize that?! Motomi had to be the grown-up here and put a stop to this. "A-Akira..." His eyelids fluttered, a hazy feeling sweeping over him from the warm, wet caresses of Akira's lips and tongue. When he chanced a look down, the sight made him lose any semblance of rational thought. Stroking his shaft with one hand, rapidly moving his head up and down without a modicum of a care; how very brazen his young lover was becoming.

He'd gotten a lot better at oral, too, and Motomi was losing the will to put up a fight. His hand brushed back locks of Akira's hair to keep them out of his face. The dead silence was filled with nothing but his breathing, the occasional hum or murmur from his throat while he took all of Motomi's arousal in, the horribly erotic wet noises formed with every slurping motion. "Akira," he breathed. "You gotta..." Abruptly, Akira stopped and sat up. He came to his senses after all? "You, uh...change your mind?"

Akira wiped the back of his hand to his mouth. "I just wanted to get you hard," he mumbled. Motomi's brow furrowed. Well, that was kind of mean, he thought, and was about to say so, but stopped as Akira reached for the floor on his side, rummaging around in his bag.

"What are you doing?" His question answered itself when Akira turned back around, holding a small plastic bottle in hand and a condom in his mouth. Motomi, at a loss, put his hand over his face. "Oh my god."

Akira tore open the shiny metallic wrapper and got right to work. Patience was not his virtue today.

"You even keep this kind of stuff in your bag now..?"

"Never know when I might need it," he replied simply. It was true they'd been having a lot of sex lately...as in, a _LOT_ , a lot...but that level of preparedness still seemed a bit much to Motomi. He didn't think at first that Akira was so bold, so the type to take initiative, but he was realizing how wrong that assumption was. There was a very bold man indeed hiding inside Akira, trapped behind layers of excessive self-consciousness and insecurities, but break through them and he's the type to get exactly what he wants.

Even so, Motomi didn't miss the red color of his face, eyes carefully downcast, while he focused on rubbing lube all over Motomi's manhood. A little touch of bashfulness still remained, and probably always would. Motomi liked it that way. He found himself a little short of breath when he saw Akira reach for his own jeans, hastily unzipping them, pulling them off in a terribly awkward position with his knees on the seat and neck forced to bend against the roof.

"Y-you sure you wanna do this?"

His jeans and underpants pooled around one ankle, Akira climbed over the console and straddled Motomi's lap. He nodded. Anxious, Motomi again looked back and forth around the alley to make sure no one was around. Akira reached behind himself to position it and gave a little gasp when the head of Motomi's dick shoved past his entrance. Slowly he let himself sink down onto it all the way, giving a soft moan as it filled him.

He felt Motomi's hands on his hips, a comforting touch while his body adjusted. His breath was already heavy and uneven. He gulped. "I'm gonna move now," he whispered. Starting slow, he raised himself only a bit at a time. He still wasn't very good at this part. More high-pitched gasps fell from his mouth each time he came back down on Motomi's lap, that stiff member rubbing against his inner walls.

Other than a little change in his breath, Motomi wasn't reacting much. Akira was determined to get more out of him. Gradually he upped his speed, his thigh muscles straining to keep it up in the confined space. His arms wrapped around the other man's neck and their foreheads pressed together. Akira found a rhythm that felt good for him and kept at it, hoping it would feel good for Motomi too. He felt Motomi's hands squeeze him tightly, taking it as a good sign.

Riding him faster and faster, Akira's eyes clenched shut and he bit his lip, doing little to quiet the moans reverberating in his throat. He felt a peck at his mouth and opened his eyes. "Don't," Motomi breathed. Oh, right...he'd always say something when Akira bit his lip. Motomi planted a kiss there again, and Akira returned it, their tongues quickly finding each other.

Akira's erection rubbed between their bodies, the fabric of both their shirts creating a deeply frustrating friction. Akira whined, moving even faster to try and satisfy that itch. He made all sorts of needy, unmanly sounds while he fucked himself on Motomi's dick.

When their mouths broke apart, the older man groaned, deep and guttural. He was pulling down on Akira's ass, trying to thrust up into him but their position made it nigh on impossible. For once, he was subjected to whatever Akira did, his speed, his roughness, all on his terms. For once, with no control, Motomi could only be passive.

Akira felt both their heads and napes grow damp with sweat. He hadn't had the foresight to undress himself from the waist up, and the heat was becoming unbearable. He cursed quietly, deciding he couldn't stand it any longer, and sloppily unzipped his jacket and pulled it off, then lifted his t-shirt up and over his head. Motomi looked panicked for a second, still preoccupied with how bad this could look if they were caught. Oh well...he was already screwed at this point, anyway, if that were the case, and the point of no return had long since passed.

Akira's face was incredibly erotic, flushed and panting and eyes a little hazy, unfocused. His body never stopped working. His insides squeezed him so tight with every movement, pleasure constantly building. Not being able to fuck him like he wanted was going to drive Motomi completely insane. "Mmm, Akira," he panted. "Hold on...a sec..." Akira replied with a little sound of confusion while Motomi reached for the handle under the seat. He pulled it up and the seat fell back far faster then he intended, making Akira give out a shocked yelp as they both fell with it.

On his back, Motomi had the leverage he wanted now, and started pounding into Akira mercilessly. "Much better," he grunted in-between thrusts. Crying out in pleasure, Akira's volume at least doubled. He wouldn't stop riding him, though, and moved to meet his pace until they somehow matched, slamming hips together over and over. His most sensitive nerves inside were being struck so powerfully he couldn't hold out for long.

"Mmmm, aahh, hah, uhn..Motomi...I can't..." He moaned and whined in a way that he hoped would get the message across, and Motomi's hand found his arousal. Dripping with precum, he smeared it across the head and rubbed him where he knew Akira liked it most. Between his hard pumping and hitting Akira's insides, Motomi made him cum within seconds. His mouth fell open in strained cries while his climax swept over him.

He buried his face in Motomi's shoulder, panting heavily against his shirt. He let Motomi keep screwing him, as he'd gotten used to since Akira would always come first. Before long he heard the man's breath hitch, felt him speed up and then slow down, pumping out his orgasm inside Akira, before the tension in his body finally released and his breath turned slow and deep. Akira pushed himself up on his arms to look Motomi in the face. His afterglow expression was one of Akira's favorite sights.

Motomi patted him on the ass, signaling to move. Akira pulled Motomi out of him, but didn't climb off just yet. "Akira...you should get dressed."

"I know. Just a few minutes," he said. He clung to Motomi, circling his arms around him.

"If you wanna cuddle, let's go cuddle at home."

"Just a few minutes."

Motomi sighed. He just couldn't win. After a short silence, he bopped Akira on the head.

"Ah--! ...What was that for?" Akira said, looking at Motomi.

"For making me go along with that. This was a really dumb idea." He wore a slight scowl, but Akira found it more cute than anything. "I gotta learn to say no to you! How bad would it have been if someone saw us and we got arrested for public indecency or something?"

"But no one did, did they?" Akira said. Glancing around, he saw the windows were all fogged up, no longer letting him see outside.

"It's bad enough for you, you've got a clean record. It'd probably be worse for me," Motomi continued.

Akira cocked an eyebrow. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"That's...not important now," Motomi said. "The point is, next time you get horny when we're out, you're just gonna have to keep it in your pants." Perhaps to not seem too mean, he gave Akira a poke on the nose. "Got it?"

Akira smiled, snuggling back into Motomi's chest. The urge had hit him pretty hard, he was even a little surprised at himself. He felt the other man's arms around him, and they shared a long silence, where all that filled Akira's ears was his boyfriend's heartbeat. "I wanna know something," he asked quietly after a while.

"Yeah?"

Akira glanced up at his face. "When did you...realize that you loved me?"

A little surprised by the question, Motomi hummed and looked sideways, deep in thought. "Remember that night you came over and we watched horror movies?"

Akira had to think back a bit, but he did remember. He nodded.

"We were cuddling on the couch, and you fell asleep on top of me in the middle of it," he said. His mouth slowly formed a smile. "You drooled on my shirt." His eyes met Akira's. "That was the moment."

"It was?" Akira wore a perplexed face. "Why then?"

Motomi shrugged. "I dunno. It just hit me all of a sudden."

"Damn, that was a long time ago," Akira muttered, thinking about how long Motomi had been sitting on those thoughts.

"Yeah, kinda," Motomi agreed. "What about you?"

"Day before yesterday."

"The day before yesterday?!" He sputtered, as if this were far more shocking to him than anything.

"Y-yeah...I don't know how you lasted so long, I thought I'd die after two days of keeping it in."

Motomi laughed. "You're so cute!" Akira pouted, about to tell Motomi to shut up, but the man sat up suddenly, bringing their faces close together. "Say it again."

Akira took a few seconds to process what he meant, and then felt his face heat up. Of course he was gonna get embarrassed, being put on the spot like this...he grumbled a little, but there was nothing that could be done to help it. After a few seconds, he forced it out, very quietly. "I love you..."

Motomi 'hmm'ed, a deeply content smile on his face. He kissed Akira's lips, then the bridge of his nose; his favorite place to kiss, for some reason. "I love you, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the end, but I like this AU so expect some related drabbles/oneshots, possibly before the last chap is posted.


	5. Chapter 5

A familiar sight caught Akira's eye on his way to class. A mop of bleach-blonde hair, belonging to a shorter guy, bobbing among the sea of bodies that flooded the hall; it was definitely Rin. Akira shouldered his way through the crowd to catch up with him and tapped him on the back. He spun around, a smile coming to his face when he saw who it was. "Hey, Akira!"

"Hey."

He walked along beside Rin for a bit, the two of them making idle chitchat, mostly coming from Rin. He was back to his old bubbly self, that was for sure. Akira hadn't seen Rin in about a week now, but he hadn't forgotten about the look on his face from that day. It continued to plague his thoughts, and he knew it would keep bothering him until he got to the bottom of it.

"Say Rin," he began. "Remember the other day, that guy that picked me up?"

Rin's expression didn't change much, but he hesitated a beat. "Ah, sure. Why?"

Akira wondered how to go about this most diplomatically. His hunch that Rin recognized Motomi might be wrong, after all, though he doubted it, and moreover he hadn't the faintest idea what it meant even if he did. "You kinda seemed like you recognized him, when you saw him," he said. He kept his tone as casual as he could, like it was a mere curiosity. "D'you know him from somewhere?"

Rin hummed and looked up, like he was thinking. "Nope," he declared finitely with a shake of his head. "Can't say I do."

Having followed Rin for a while now, they'd branched off into another hallway, still filled with people but not so crowded as the previous one, and with it the din around them had decreased. "You sure?" Akira pressed.

Rin nodded quickly, his good mood not remotely affected. "Yeah, I'm sure." Suddenly he clapped his hands together, remembering something. "Oh! You should see this picture I took on the way here this morning," he said, stopping to fish his camera out of his bag. He clicked the buttons on the back until the screen displayed what appeared to be some kind of oddly-shaped oil stain on asphalt, and he held it up for Akira. "See? It's weird, isn't it?"

He was changing the subject. Rin wasn't a good liar, or maybe Akira just had a way of seeing through him. Either way it was obvious he wasn't telling the truth, and Akira didn't like it one bit. His eyes narrowed in anger, looking at Rin pointedly. "I can tell you're not being honest." The hand holding the camera slowly withdrew, and the smile dropped from Rin's face. His patience tested, Akira decided to spill what was really on his mind. "If there's something strange going on between you and my boyfriend, I think I should know what it is."

 _Now_ he had his attention. Rin's mouth fell slightly open, his eyes wide. "A-alright, alright," he conceded. For reasons Akira couldn't guess at, he glanced around in all directions, his voice becoming small. "If you really wanna know, I'll tell you. Just...not right now, okay?" He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at it, then put it back. "I can meet up with you later today. How's 4:30 sound?"

Akira had never seen Rin like this, and felt a pang of guilt for the tone he'd taken. But, then, it was the only thing that got him to cave. "Sure," Akira agreed. "I'll see you then."

\---

Staring out the third-story window at the greying clouds, chin rested on his hand, Akira had been waiting long enough to begin to lose a sense of time. Patience being his virtue, though, he wasn't bored. His back leaned on the glass, cold enough to chill his skin a bit even through his sweatshirt. It definitely looked like rain.

Rin had picked an oddly specific meeting place, Akira thought, and he'd gotten there early on purpose. This wasn't a very high-traffic area, so maybe that was why. Akira felt more than a little trepidation, wondering what could be grave enough to not only make Rin lie, but cause him to act as strangely as he did when confronted with it.

Finally he heard approaching footsteps and glanced up to see Rin. Neither gave any acknowledgement or greeting as Rin simply sat beside Akira, criss-crossing his legs. He didn't look him in the face. "Sorry I lied," he said, breaking the awkward silence.

"S'no big," Akira mumbled. He was still a little displeased with himself for getting angry before and wished Rin wouldn't call attention to it.

"So, yeah, you caught me," Rin said. "I did recognize that man's face...even though it's been..." He stopped to count on his fingers. "Something like eight years." Akira raised an eyebrow. That long? In a barely audible murmur Rin added, "More like I couldn't forget if I wanted to."

Akira's heart sped up. This was too strange already, it might have been more serious than he imagined. He let out a breath. "So what the hell happened?"

"There's a reason I didn't wanna bring it up. It's not a thing I'm exactly proud of." Rin clenched his hands tightly at his lap, as Akira waited patiently for him to continue. "See, when I was younger, I was friends with Jun."

"Jun?" Akira repeated, tilting his head.

"Yeah." Rin looked at Akira, realization dawning. "Wait. Don't tell me...you _do_ know who Jun is, right?" Akira shook his head, and Rin's jaw dropped. "I thought you said you're dating the guy! You really don't know his son's name?"

"O-oh." Akira felt embarrassed for not knowing...after all, it was kind of strange that he didn't. "Well, I knew he had a son, I just...never learned his name."

"Hmm. Anyway," Rin said, his eyes falling to stare at the floor, "I was...there...the night it happened."

Akira felt an uncanny chill up his spine, and he didn't suspect the draft was to blame. "How did it happen?" he asked softly. Rin turned to give him an 'are you kidding me?' look, and Akira recoiled. "It just never came up," he mumbled.

" _Never came up_ ," Rin repeated incredulously, clapping a hand over his eyes and shaking his head. "My god..." With nothing much he could say, Akira silently pleaded with Rin to tell him more. At this point, he simply had to know. He _had_ to know. "Like I said, I'm not proud of this," Rin took a long, deep breath. "It's...partially my fault Jun's dead."

Rendered utterly speechless, Akira stared wide-eyed at Rin. What could he possibly mean by that?!

"See, there was him, me and a few other boys from our grade that used to hang out together," Rin explained awkwardly. "And one night, we all went out after dark. A few of us even had to sneak out without our parent's permission. It's not like we were doing anything bad," he added abruptly. "We weren't causing any trouble. Just goofing off, acting like dumb middle schoolers, yanno?

"But then...we ended up down at the docks. Somebody dared Jun to jump. He was kind of a daredevil, so he'd usually do almost anything if someone dared him. He was all, 'Should I do it? Should I do it?' and the rest of us were egging him on, telling him to jump." Rin's mouth formed a tight line when he paused. "It really wasn't all that high above the water. Not so different from jumping off a diving board into a pool. We thought it would be fine."

Rin sat with his arms circled around his knees. Akira was hardly breathing, waiting to hear him out. "So, because we were all encouraging him, he went ahead and jumped. We expected he'd just swim right back to shore." Rin's voice was a bit muffled, face pressed against his knees. "But he didn't come up. He went under and just...didn't come back up."

Akira was dizzy. He actually felt his head spinning.

"We all panicked. One of the guys called his parents for help, and next thing we knew there were cops and a whole rescue team looking for him and everything." He shook his head, eyes closed. "It was so much deeper than we thought. He got pulled into an undercurrent and it took him out too far to swim back. Sometime later that night, they found his body washed up on the beach nearby."

Akira couldn't say a word. He rubbed at his forehead, feeling faint. Even just hearing the story he had an unshakably vivid image in his head. He remembered a cold night. Waves crashing on rocks below. Almost falling.

 _Fuck_ , no _wonder_ Motomi got so mad.

The guilt was enough to make Akira nauseous.

"It was so stupid," Rin said, his voice a bit strangled. "I mean, Jun and I weren't all that close. Mostly, we just got along really well at school. But...a friend died because I was so thoughtless. I could have said something, I could have told him not to do it, but instead I was right there, egging him on along with everybody else." By this point, Rin seemed on the verge of tears. Akira put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't say that," he managed. "It's not right to keep beating yourself up forever...you were just kids, kids do stupid things." Rin nodded, though Akira couldn't be sure if he did so because he actually agreed or what. It couldn't have been easy for Rin to recount all this. "Thanks," Akira said. "For telling me everything." With that he stood up suddenly.

"Where're you going?"

Akira's emotions were a complete fucking mess. He looked outside at the gloomy sky. He still had another class this afternoon, but he'd have to skip it. There was no way he'd be able to concentrate or think straight until he...until he at least apologized properly. "I have to be somewhere," Akira stated simply. He looked to Rin. "Seriously, thank you." With that he picked up his bag and bolted down the stairs and outside.

They hadn't made any plans to meet each other today, but he hoped he wouldn't mind. He'd get himself there on the train if he had to. Akira needed to see Motomi. Now.

\---

He knew Motomi wouldn't expect to see him, that he'd even react with surprise, but he didn't count on him being so shocked that his mouth would drop open and his cigarette would fall right to the floor. Akira made an incredibly pitiful sight in his doorway. A downpour had started shortly after he left school, and he didn't have an umbrella. Even with taking the train, he had a lot of distance to cover on foot, and had gotten himself thoroughly soaked from head to toe, looking like he might as well have jumped in a swimming pool fully clothed. "Akira!! What are you--?!"

"Sorry to show up out of the blue," Akira said quietly. He lifted his arms, sleeves so waterlogged he could feel them weighing him down. "I kinda...forgot an umbrella today..."

"G-get inside!!" Motomi hurriedly pulled him in, shutting the door behind him. It was amazingly warm and comforting inside, making a mild wave of relief flood through Akira. "Jeez, you're gonna give yourself hypothermia! Stay right there," Motomi said and disappeared down the hallway. Akira stood stock still in the entryway, a puddle slowly forming around his feet as he dripped from every part of his body. He watched huge beads form on the tendrils of his hair before they fell down onto his face. "Why didn't you call me?" Motomi's voice shouted from another room. "I would have picked you up."

"I did call," Akira shouted back. "You never answered."

"What?!" A silence followed, then Motomi groaned audibly. "Damn it, phone was on silent!!" A moment later he re-appeared, holding a fluffy towel and wearing an apologetic smile. "I'm really sorry. I wish I'd thought to check it."

"No worries," Akira said while Motomi threw the towel over his head.

"Here, get out of those clothes already." Though feeling a bit awkward about stripping down right here, Akira did as told and began peeling the soaked articles off of himself and leaving them in a heap on the floor, until only his boxers were left. Even they were damp. Rubbing away vigorously at Akira's hair to dry it, Motomi gave a long 'what am I gonna do with you' sort of sigh. "What made you decide to come over so suddenly?" he asked. "Weren't you busy tonight?"

Akira hummed, trying to come up with an answer that didn't mention how he ditched class. "Change of plans," he mumbled.

"Is that right?" Still trying to get Akira dry, he let out a chuckle. "How cute, it's like a little dog wandered in out of the rain." Instead of the usual pissy reaction he'd get for comparing Akira to a dog again, he was met with silence. He lifted the towel to peer at Akira's face, finding his eyes downcast. "Something wrong?" Akira chewed his lip, staring at his feet.

"I, um...wanted to say I'm sorry."

Puzzled, Motomi tilted his head. "What for?"

"That night, on our first date, when I wasn't being careful and I almost fell," Akira explained, voice tiny. "I made you worried, and I'm...I'm sorry."

Motomi crossed his arms, considering Akira with a confused smile. "What the heck made you bring that up? Didn't you already apo--"

"I never would have done it," Akira said. "If I knew about Jun."

Dead silence. He chanced a look up at Motomi, and his eyes had gone huge. His brows knitted together, his mouth opening to say something, but the words just didn't want to form. "H-how...did you..."

"Rin told me. He was a friend of Jun's back then, and he was there when it happened." Akira slowly pulled the towel off of his head, wrapping it around his shoulders. Even though it was warm in here, he was still quite cold.

Motomi gazed upward, trying to remember. "I think I might remember a Rin," he said. "Now that you mention it. Maybe."

"Apparently they weren't all that close. But he blames himself for what happened."

"What?! That's so-- that's so _wrong_." Motomi shook his head. "I can't believe that, he shouldn't have to feel that way at all. None of them should." Akira gave a nod of agreement. A long, uncomfortable silence followed, broken only when Akira uttered something too softly for Motomi to properly hear it.

"...- _te it_."

"Huh?"

"I _hate it_." Akira's hands clenched the towel tight enough to make the veins stick out on his ghostly pale skin. His tone gradually crescendoed until he was almost shouting. "I hate that I heard about all that from him and not you!" Akira groaned, roughly raking a hand back through his bangs. "I'm sorry, I realize it's my own fault. It's no one's fault but mine, because I didn't ask about your past. I was...I was too afraid to ask. But I didn't wanna make you relive something bad, and I figured I'd find out sooner or later, but all this time passed and it got to where I was even _more_ afraid to bring it up."

Motomi was too stunned to say a thing. Though shame gripped at Akira's chest with every subsequent word, he forced it out. "It bothers me _so much_ ," he admitted. "You had this whole life before you met me, and I don't know the half of it. All this time we've been together now and I still don't...really know anything about you. I can't _stand it!_ And it's all my own damn fault for being a coward!!"

"Akira, Akira," Motomi's calm voice sharply contrasted his own, and he put his hands on Akira's shoulders. Only now did Akira realize he was trembling. "It's not all your fault. It's mine too. For never saying anything."

Akira looked up at him pleadingly. "Well why not?" he breathed. "Why not tell me anything?"

Motomi's eyes fixed to a point off to his side, mouth set firmly. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. "I have my reasons," he eventually said.

Akira was not pleased by that answer. Not remotely.

"You always tell me to say what's on my mind, don't you?" he demanded. "You're the one always saying I need to be honest and open and let things out, or else they'll eat away at me." His anger might've been showing through more than he meant, because Motomi's narrowed eyes reflected some of it back at him.

Motomi withdrew his hands from Akira. His head turned away and he gave a short, mirthless laugh. His tone was so bitter he barely sounded like himself. "Yeah, well...I'm a hypocrite."

Akira's arms dropped to his sides. Neither of them spoke for seconds, ticking on towards a minute. The towel slipped unceremoniously from Akira's shoulders, gravity pulling it to the wet floor at his feet. His hair hanging in a messy curtain over his eyes, he felt defeated, but he wasn't ready to give up.

"This is me being honest," he murmured. "I wanna know everything about you. Every last little detail." He lifted his hands to rub at his upper arms. He was still curiously cold. "I mean, not all at once...I wanna learn them all someday. But if I'm being honest, I want to see everything that's inside you that I still haven't seen." A shiver ran through his body as he stared at the floor. Maybe it was useless after all. "I suppose that might be selfish of me." There was nothing sarcastic about what he said; he genuinely thought it may be selfish of him to ask.

Motomi shook his head. "No, it's not. I understand, Akira." His expression softened. "Because I'm the same way. I want to know every little thing about you too." He tilted Akira's chin up to meet his gaze. His smile was weak, and he seemed strangely exhausted. "And I want to show you, I really do...I'm just afraid you're not gonna like everything you see."

"That doesn't matter," Akira said plainly. "I love you. I love you, and...I want to be able to love all parts of you, both the good and the bad." Motomi looked surprised at him, though Akira thought it was the simplest thing in the world. He reached out and took hold of Motomi's hands. "There's nothing you could say or do to change that."

Motomi sighed. "If you say so, Akira," he said, and squeezed Akira's hands in return. He knew when he'd been defeated. "I just can't win against you, can I?" Akira looked at him expectantly; did it mean what he thought it meant? To confirm his thoughts, Motomi said: "I won't hold anything back from you anymore."

Akira's posture perked up, his eagerness easily evident. "Really?"

"Mm." He nodded and ruffled Akira's hair. "You're gonna have to cut me a break though, I'm not exactly used to talking about certain things." He looked off to one side, giving a rueful smile. "If you don't mind, I'm gonna get a little drunk."

\---

Motomi had put his clothes in to be washed and dried, and in the meantime gave Akira some pajamas to borrow. They were oversized on him, despite being the smallest that Motomi owned, but Akira didn't mind. He was grateful enough to be dressed again, and it helped to warm his clammy skin. They smelled like Motomi, and though he was unlikely to admit it, Akira liked the feeling of being wrapped in his scent. He sat on Motomi's bed with a blanket pulled over his bare feet, and the other man flopped down beside him holding a box, which he handed over to Akira.

It turned out to be filled with photographs, which he encouraged Akira to look at. Motomi reclined beside him, picking up a small glass and a bottle of whiskey from the table next to him. As Akira took the thick stack of pictures between his fingers and began flipping through them, Motomi unsurreptitiously started pouring some for himself.

There were a lot of pictures. The first few didn't mean much to Akira, as they contained places and people he didn't know, but he studied them carefully anyway. They were all in very nice condition, no scratches or tears or smudges to speak of. They'd been well cared for. Akira had noticed before Motomi didn't have any pictures up around his home, so he supposed they were all here. The first one to really catch his attention was a group of young men all dressed in fatigues, smiling widely as they struck poses for the camera, a few of them trying to be funny. He looked at their faces one by one until...wait, that one was awfully familiar.

"Is this you?!" Akira pointed and held it up, and Motomi gave it a once-over and nodded.

"Yup, that's me all right," he declared with a hint of pride.

Staring at the picture again, Akira tried to connect the disparity in his head between the Motomi in the photograph and the one sitting next to him. Motomi in the picture was clean-shaven and had incredibly short hair. "Damn...you were so young," Akira said. "You're practically a baby."

Motomi laughed. "I wasn't much younger than you are now, you know." He noticed Akira still looking at the same picture. "Come on, don't stare at it for too long," he teased. "I don't want you to notice how much more handsome I used to be."

"I think you're more handsome now," Akira mumbled, corner of his mouth turned upward. He looked at the next one in the stack, a more formal portrait of Motomi in uniform. With an even clearer look at his face, Akira really had a hard time believing it was the same man. The only thing that gave him away were his eyes. They might have had a few more lines around them now, but their kindness hadn't changed.

Akira took his time looking through the photographs, occasionally shooting a quick glance at Motomi; he wasn't paying them any attention at all, and he wasn't saying much. There had to be some reason, Akira thought, that he'd chosen to show these to him first. This was his first step in sharing some part of himself with Akira, he supposed. The next picture to catch his attention was a baby picture.

"...This is your son, isn't it?"

"Mmhmm."

The picture under it was also Jun, and so was the one under that. There were a _lot_ of pictures of Jun, all in what appeared to be chronological order; when he was a baby, when he was a toddler, and so on throughout what looked to Akira like a normal, in fact, quite happy childhood. Playing outside, showing off frogs he'd caught in jars, posing in his school uniform for his first day with a wide grin that revealed several missing baby teeth. Motomi was in a few shots here and there as well. The resemblance Jun bore to his father wasn't very strong, but Akira could see it a little. He must have taken more after his mother. Which led Akira to notice a strange absence.

"Why aren't there any of your wife?"

"Oh, there are," Motomi said, pouring another shot. "But not very many. She was always the one taking them." He tilted back his head to drink it in one go, and coughed a little. "I just wasn't into taking pictures like she was. 'Course now I wish I had been."

As Akira kept going through the stack, he found one image of her. A lovely woman with long hair and a natural smile, like maybe she hadn't expected to have her picture taken. "Wow...she's beautiful," Akira remarked.

Motomi nodded. "Yeah. She was." For a long moment, the silence was punctuated only by the faint paper-y sound of Akira flipping through what was left of the photos. "She was also a far better parent than I was," Motomi finally said.

Akira looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Jun was a smart kid, don't get me wrong about that...but, he had something like a rebellious streak." Again, Motomi poured whiskey into his glass, and a small prick of uneasiness settled in Akira's stomach as he looked at the bottle and tried to remember how full it was when Motomi took it out. "More like he'd always try dangerous stuff, just because he could. When he was little he broke his arm once falling out of a tree, because he wanted to see how high he could climb." Akira was certainly noticing a pattern...the incident at the docks hadn't been a standalone thing, it seemed.

"My wife was the disciplinarian," Motomi said. "I was never any good at telling him what to do, and he knew it, because any time she wasn't around he'd try anything he could get away with. Well," Motomi sighed, "She once left town to visit some relatives. And one night, Jun said he wanted to go out with his friends. It was after dark, and I didn't know if there'd be any adults there. I just gave him the usual, 'don't go too far and be home by nine' speech, blah blah blah." Motomi shook his head. "And I let him go. I let him because I was a pushover and I always gave him whatever he wanted."

Motomi had a very dark look in his eyes, and Akira could only imagine him cursing himself to this day. "Problem with being a shitty parent is that for some people, by the time you get the wake-up call, it's already too late." He looked at Akira. "Want to know the last thing I ever said to him? I told him to have fun." Shaking his head once more, Motomi poured another shot and inhaled it. "That's why it's so fucked up that Rin...that he blames himself. No one can be to blame but me. What happened to Jun, happened because I was an irresponsible, shitty dad."

He sighed and rubbed his temple, saying nothing for a long time. So long, that Akira stopped waiting for him, and returned to looking at the pictures. The rain still tapping incessantly on the window pane filled the silence. Eventually, as if simply picking up where he left off, Motomi started talking again. "I went through this whole weird denial thing," he explained. "While they were searching for Jun, I was doing everything I could to stay calm, convince myself everything was going to be alright. But then this guy...this guy comes up to me, and tells me they found him." Motomi was starting to slur his words a little. "So I said, 'Oh good, let me talk to him'. But...I was only hearing what I wanted to hear. He told me they found his _body_. He goes, 'Sir, you don't understand. He's already passed.' And it...still wasn't getting through to me at first. It just wasn't _processing_."

He paused just long enough to begin pouring himself another shot and Akira grimaced a bit, noticing Motomi's motor skills on the decline. "I started screaming at the guy, let me see him, let me see him. And then...I actually saw him. I could see him right there, but I thought...this isn't right, that can't be. He's still alive, they're making a mistake. After that's kind of a blur, honestly," he sighed. "I remember like two or three guys trying to restrain me, that's about it for a while."

By now Akira was hanging on his every syllable, not even allowing himself to breathe too loudly as he listened. "My wife completely fell apart," Motomi said. "Couldn't tie her own shoes, wouldn't eat unless I forced her to. I had to be strong for her sake, so that's what I did. I kept it together because she couldn't. About a month went by, I think, maybe a little less," he recounted. "I left the house one day to get some cigarettes. I swear I wasn't gone twenty fucking minutes. When I got home, she was on the bathroom floor with slit wrists." Akira cringed picturing it. Even the mental image hurt to think about, but to have actually seen it...

"I should've known better." Motomi sighed. "I shouldn't have ever left her alone in the state she was in. I should've known better," he mumbled. "I let them both down. Both of them are gone now thanks to me." He looked at Akira. "And don't even think about trying to tell me that isn't true. No one, including a _very_ expensive therapist, has been able to convince me otherwise, so you won't either."

Akira couldn't have tried if he'd been inclined, anyway. He was utterly speechless. "I put a pistol in my mouth later that year," Motomi eventually said. Akira's eyes snapped wide open, staring at him in disbelief. "Don't look so shocked, I'm sitting here talking to you, aren't I?" Well, of course he was, Akira thought, but it still came as a bit of a surprise. "Wanna know why?" Motomi asked, not waiting for an answer. "Short answer is, I chickened out. Got scared at the last second." He shrugged. "Could have tried again later, sure, but the real answer is more complicated than just being a coward.

"See I thought, I thought to end it all would be going easy on myself. I decided I didn't deserve an easy way out. What I thought I deserved was to carry the burden of their deaths on my shoulders for the rest of my natural life, and that would be my repentance. Back then, I figured that was the best shot I had that maybe God would forgive me, so I kept living." He laughed ruefully. "I know, it sounds pretty stupid now, thinking of being alive as my punishment. Don't get me wrong, in retrospect I'm glad I didn't die. But you gotta understand, at the time, choosing to be alive was the worst possible thing I could do to myself." He inhaled and exhaled deeply.

"So, I decided to live. Not well, of course. The next few years I spent in a constant state of being either drunk or high, or waiting until the next time I could get drunk or high. A never-ending self destructive cycle...but, obviously, I pulled myself out of it sooner or later," he added with a joking tone, "to become the upstanding individual you see before you today." It was with a more urgent dread that Akira watched him throw back a little more whiskey, and noticed how very empty the bottle was compared to several minutes ago. He was tempted to snatch it away from him. Motomi stared off into space for a while, and Akira looked again at the pictures in his hand. He'd reached the bottom of the stack.

Holding the final photograph up, it was another picture of Jun. A perfectly ordinary, mundane snapshot, smiling and flashing a peace sign for the camera. Akira did notice a little resemblance to his father, here; just a bit. Jun looked fairly old in the picture, maybe twelve, thirteen years of age or so. It was probably the last one ever taken of him. Motomi noticed him staring at it and indicated for it. "Can I see that?" Akira nodded and handed it over. Akira had the feeling that maybe he hadn't looked at it in a while. As he studied it, a warm, nostalgic smile came over his face. "He was a really great kid," Motomi said. "So damn smart. Cared a lot about people too, always made everyone laugh." He languidly handed the picture back over to Akira. For what must have been the fifth time he shook his head, and gazed off at nothing. "He was really great," he repeated softly.

Akira thought Motomi's eyes looked strange. A little bit glassy, unfocused, and Akira was sure copious amounts of liquor ingested weren't entirely to blame. All of a sudden, it hit him. He could only describe that look in his eyes as dead. Utterly exhausted, defeated and simply...dead. Though his mouth smiled, his eyes didn't. Akira didn't understand why it took him until now to realize. When something _really_ made Motomi happy, his eyes would squint a bit when he smiled. When they didn't, it always felt strange, and only now did Akira understand why: because it was fake.

He'd trained himself to look happy when he wasn't. He'd do it even when he was in pain. It broke Akira's heart to pieces.

He felt a heat rise to his face and fought back the sensation of tears welling up. Acting on instinct, he moved over to Motomi, circling his arms around the man's head and gently embracing him.

"...Akira." Motomi's muffled voice asked, confused. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Akira breathed. He was only doing what felt right to him. He continued to hold him, closing his eyes and leaning his face against the soft hair. Several seconds passed in silence.

"I'm fine, you know," Motomi said.

A lump had formed in Akira's throat, and that heat wouldn't leave his eyes. "I know," he whispered. Eventually Motomi brought his hand up to Akira's back, half-heartedly returning his embrace and giving an irritated little sigh.

"I said I'm fine," he breathed into Akira's shoulder.

Akira nodded rapidly. He didn't want to speak; his voice would give him away. "Mhmm."

He felt Motomi's hand clench at his shirt. His voice came out weak and strained. "...Akira." Akira kept his mouth firmly shut, but his jaw wanted to betray him by trembling. Motomi cursed under his breath, and inhaled sharply. His voice was wet, and when Akira caught a distinct sniffle, the last thread holding him together snapped. Shutting his eyes, Akira's tears seeped through regardless, beginning already to streak his face. "Akira..."

Still unable or unwilling to speak, Akira nodded again. Motomi held him with both arms now and he felt his grip grow tighter, until his fingers dug into his back. If it was painful, Akira barely registered it. Motomi's shoulders moved when a single sob escaped, a sound that forcefully tore its way out of his throat, uninvited and unwanted. Another soon followed it, just as painful to Akira's ears. _I should have been prepared_ , Akira thought. This was what he should have expected, the result of re-opening old wounds. He should have been prepared. He wasn't.

He had to accept responsibility for making Motomi feel this way, he thought, for making him shed tears he hadn't in years, for making him expose his unbearable guilt. None of this was anything he expected to go through tonight, and Akira had just arrived unannounced on his doorstep, asking him to open up about a past he knew was intensely painful. He did everything he could to keep silent himself while holding Motomi securely, refusing to let him go. He was sure the occasional quick heave of his chest or the the tiny sniffles would give him away, so he wasn't even sure why he cared if Motomi could tell, but he did.

Motomi's voice eventually tapered off, wordless vocalizations growing softer. Akira felt the presence of a wet spot forming on his shirt (well, Motomi's shirt) and had taken to stroking his hair slowly, hoping such a small gesture could mean something. Motomi began drunkenly mumbling words that Akira could make neither heads nor tails of. He wanted something, and it quickly became evident what as he blindly reached out for the near-empty whiskey bottle on the table.

Akira glared at it. He very much wanted to throw the damn thing across the room, but he kept a lid on his temper for once. "No, you don't need it," Akira said softly. Motomi ignored him, breaking free of his grip to grab it. Akira tried vainly to protest, but before he'd made up his mind of whether he should - whether he had any right - to take it away, Motomi had gulped down what was left. Akira took the empty bottle and put it out of reach. "Alright, alright. It's all gone, there's no more."

Motomi gave a very displeased groan, and for a moment Akira feared he'd try and go get more from the pantry. He was probably too plastered to even consider making the trip, as he instead flopped down on the bed, muttering more incoherent nonsense. Akira lay beside him, waiting for...he didn't know what. For sleep, he guessed. Waiting until fatigue would ebb away at his consciousness and let them both escape into a black void, free of any bad dreams.

\---

Akira woke himself up by sneezing. He rubbed the back of his hand under his nose, a little grossed out by the wetness seeping from it, and noticed a dull ache pulsating throughout his skull. The bed was empty, and he sat up, blinking his dark surroundings into focus. It wasn't morning yet. The glowing numbers on the clock took a few seconds to make sense. It was either really late or really early, depending on how he wanted to look at it. But where was Motomi? What could have gotten him out of bed at this hour?

That question was answered by a retching that echoed from the direction of the bathroom. That wasn't much of a surprise, Akira supposed with a weary sigh. It continued for a while longer and just as Akira considered going in to check on him, the sound finally ceased and was followed by a flush and running water. Motomi returned, looking a bit worse for the wear, rubbing at his face and bleary eyes. "Oh...you're up too," he croaked. Akira tried to reply, but immediately broke into a coughing fit. Motomi sat next to him and patted his back. "Y'alright?"

"Mm." Akira sniffled. "I don't feel so great...that's what I get for going out in the rain, huh?"

Motomi paused, staring at him. "You can't really catch a cold from being cold, yanno."

"...Oh?"

"The only way is to come into contact with the virus." Motomi sighed, leaning back against a pillow and pulling a cigarette from its box on his night stand. "You didn't share a drink with anyone, did you?" he asked, putting it between his lips and flicking his lighter. He glanced sideways at Akira with a teasing smile. "Did you go make out with someone else?"

Akira was momentarily stunned before becoming indignant. "Sh-shut up! As if!"

"Whatever it was, being out in the freezing cold rain might not be great for your body, but it's only a coincidence." Taking a slow drag and letting it out, he closed his eyes and massaged his temple. He seemed to be in a pretty damn good mood, all things considered, Akira thought. "Just stay over here today, I can take care of you until you're better."

"What about you?" Akira asked. "You must be hung over as hell."

Motomi laughed. "Yeah. I've had worse."

There was a short silence. "Um...how much do you remember?" Akira asked. "Of last night?"

"...Everything."

"Oh." Well, damn...he'd sort of hoped Motomi wouldn't retain every detail. "...I'm sorry," he said in a small voice.

"Don't be," Motomi said. "To be honest, it's good that I...that I finally got to open up to you. I'm glad you bullied me into it," he added affectionately, giving Akira a nudge on the arm. Akira smiled.

"Me too." He laid down next to Motomi and snuggled closer to him. It was hard to think about much of anything besides how lousy he felt right now. At least Motomi didn't mind him staying here until he felt better. "Can you really stay home today?" he wondered aloud. "Don't you have work stuff to do?"

"If you can cut classes, I can play hooky too, can't I?" Shoot, so he knew anyway. With nothing to say to that, Akira closed his eyes, trying to relax despite his headache. Some time passed in silence. "Actually, now that I think of it...there's something else I wanted to talk to you about, too."

Akira opened his eyes. "Hm?"

"Believe it or not," Motomi started, "this wasn't my first career choice at all."

"Really?" Akira propped himself up on his elbow. "That's surprising. You seem like you love baseball."

"Well, sure I do, I have since I was a little kid," Motomi said. "But the fact that I write about it for a living is more of a coincidence. It just sort of became an opportunity and I took it. Truth is, I always wanted to be a _real_ journalist. I dreamed of writing about really important stuff going on in the world, being able to travel...I wanted to do something with impact."

"Why didn't you?"

Motomi exhaled a small cloud of smoke. "Nothing was pushing me, I guess. I always told myself I'd follow that dream one day, but...I have job security, you know? And especially after Jun and Yonmi died, it became easier to forget about trying. In the end, I became one of those guys who gives up on their dreams. I settled." He looked frustrated as he admitted this. Akira listened intently, not sure how to feel. It was an awfully sad thought, giving up on your own dreams.

"For the longest time now," Motomi continued, "I've resigned myself to the idea that, this is how my life will be from now on. I'll keep doing this until I can retire, then eventually die. As strange as it sounds, I actually found a little comfort in that. I mean, it's depressing too, I know, but you'd be surprised how easily you can accept an unchanging life as long as you're reasonably sure it isn't going to change for the worse." It was a little difficult for Akira to agree with that, but he imagined from Motomi's perspective it must have made sense.

Motomi stamped out his cigarette in the ash tray. "But lately, I've..." He rubbed at the back of his neck, struggling for words. "Lately I think, maybe it doesn't have to stay the same. Maybe I could still pursue that dream. Nothing is stopping me but me, right?" He looked at Akira. "I didn't start thinking that way until I met you."

Taken aback, Akira's breath caught in his throat. "What do you mean?"

"I mean ever since we've been together, I started thinking of my life in terms of having a future," Motomi said. He gave Akira a shy smile. "Or hell, maybe you just make me want to be a better person, I don't know."

Akira sat up, considering him wordlessly. If Motomi really meant it when he said that...Akira wasn't even sure he could wrap his head around that. He could hardly imagine being that important to someone. "So...you...you really want to do this?"

"I do," he said. "It would be a lot of changes, but I think it would be worth it." He took a deep breath, not quite meeting Akira's eyes as he continued. "And I know for sure, if I'm going to follow my dream, I want you to be a part of it. No matter what." Motomi was nervous, Akira could see that much. "It's not exactly fair of me to say this," he stammered, "Talking about the future, and everything. Because you're so young...you have your whole life ahead of you, s'not really right of me to talk about big commitments and stuff..."

Akira shook his head. "No. I want that, too. I want to be a part of it," he said. "I'll admit it's scary to think about, mostly because of the idea of you going off somewhere without me...I'd miss you, obviously." His cheeks were burning, but he kept a gentle smile on his face. "But whatever you decide to do, I want to support you."

"Well it's not like I'm gonna just up and take off!" Motomi said. "I wouldn't do that to you. And none of this is gonna happen overnight, either...I don't really know what's gonna happen," he sighed. "But knowing you want to support me...it makes me feel better already." Motomi reached out and stroked the side of Akira's face, pushing some of his hair back. He was downright beaming. "Oh, speaking of that," he added, "Traveling and stuff."

"Hm?"

"I was thinking of taking a little vacation soon. You'll have some time off from school in a few weeks or so, won't you?"

Akira blinked at him, then nodded rapidly, unable to conceal his excitement. "Yes! I will! Where do you wanna go?"

"I was still contemplating it, but," he said, looking thoughtful, "I haven't been back to where I used to live in Korea in a long time. It sure would be great to see it again...what do you think?"

"That would be fantastic! I'd--" Akira stopped short as he broke into a sudden coughing fit. Motomi laughed and patted his back again.

"Alright, take it easy. You're sick, remember?" He gently urged Akira to lay down again, and pulled the covers over him. "Get some sleep, okay? There's plenty of time to talk plans later."

Akira agreed with him by way of a soft hum. "You should sleep too, you know," he said. "Not like you're in much better shape than I am."

"Alright, if you say so," Motomi said, laying down at his side and covering Akira with his arm. He planted a kiss on Akira's forehead before settling in for sleep. And it was true, there would be plenty of time to hash out the details of their trip later, but Akira was already excited. So excited that sleep came with some difficulty, though it did come.

The rest of their day would be spent as lazily as possible, with Akira feeling more than a little spoiled for having his own personal old man to take care of him.

\-----

Akira had been staring at the numbers on the display screen so long, they were starting to burn into his brain. Flight 424 to Seoul, delayed. Isn't _that_ putting it lightly, Akira thought bitterly. Just how much longer would they be waiting? From his right he heard something vaguely like a snore. Looking over, Motomi was dozing off again, his head suddenly snapping up as he tried to stay awake. Akira laughed. "I already told you, if you wanna sleep, just sleep."

Motomi shook his head, putting his hand over his mouth as he yawned. "I'm fine," he lied. Akira rolled his eyes at Motomi's stubbornness.

"Why'd you have to book such a late flight anyway?"

"It was cheaper," the other man whined, his eyes already starting to close of their own accord. The sprawling airport around them was relatively quiet. Akira was far more impatient than Motomi, unable to keep from fidgeting in his seat from time to time. "Nervous?" Motomi asked him.

Akira shook his head. "Nope."

"It's fine if you are," Motomi said. "I know you've never been on an airplane before."

"That's got nothing to do with it," Akira cut him off. "I'm also going someplace I don't know at all, where I don't speak a single word of the language."

"Don't worry about it." Motomi patted him reassuringly. "You've got me with you, so it'll be fine."

"I know," Akira sighed. Akira returned to staring impatiently at the screen while Motomi tried to keep himself awake. A sudden, strange thought popped into Akira's head, and it wouldn't leave him alone. "Hey." He prodded Motomi with his finger in case he'd dozed off again.

"Mm?"

"Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I didn't rent you that time?" He looked at Motomi, who took a few seconds to figure out what he meant. It had been a rather out of the blue question.

"Oh, right. Or, if I'd quit a day earlier, and we'd never met?" Motomi asked, and Akira nodded. "Sure, I've thought about it, I guess," he said. "But I'm glad that wasn't the case."

Akira was thankful for that, too. "It's such a random chance, isn't it? Just a stroke of pure luck," he thought out loud. He gazed off at nothing, a warm smile coming to his face. "I sure didn't expect I'd meet the person I wanna spend the rest of my days with before I turned twenty-three..." Motomi was staring at him, eyes wider than they were five seconds ago. Akira felt a heat rising to his face, the weight of what he'd just said beginning to dawn on him. "Th-that's, umm," he stammered awkwardly, "What I mean is..."

He never would finish. Motomi leaned in and gently kissed him, silencing his thoughts. When at last he broke away, he laughed under his breath. "That's alright," he said in hardly more than a whisper. "I didn't expect to meet the love of my life in my forties, either."

Akira's heart forgot to beat for a few seconds. Saying nothing, he only moved forward and rested his forehead against Motomi's. For once he didn't think about the fact that they were in a public place. Right now, the whole world may as well have consisted only of the two of them.

"Hey, what you said just now...almost sounded like a proposal," Motomi said quietly.

Akira turned bright red and faced away. "...Did it, now?"

"Mmmmmhmm." Motomi's tone was teasing, barely able to conceal his amusement at seeing Akira embarrassed like this. "It's not like I'd say no if you asked."

Akira 'hmmph'ed. "Well, maybe once I can afford a ring I'll surprise you with one," he declared in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Not if I beat you to it," Motomi mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing." Motomi put his hand over his mouth again, breaking into a yawn. Akira glanced at the time, and the status of their flight. It would still be a while, it seemed.

"Look, why don't you rest your eyes? Just for a few minutes," Akira said. Sure that Motomi would argue again that he didn't need to, Akira patted his shoulder. "Go on, I'll wake you up when it's time."

Motomi gave a defeated sigh. "Okay, if you insist." Giving in at last, he leaned his head on Akira's shoulder and closed his eyes. Akira kept awake and alert, waiting for the announcement that their flight had finally arrived.

Just now, Akira realized, when he'd been joking about proposals...Motomi's eyes had squinted a little. Akira softly placed his hand over the other man's; he didn't move. He'd dozed off already. _From now on, I don't wanna see any more fake happiness_ , Akira thought. Maybe he'd tell him so, someday soon. _That'll be my goal from this day forward._ Akira sighed contentedly, laying his head on Motomi's. _To only see you smile for real._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh...six months since the last update??? Y'all have been insanely patient. This chapter...to be honest, writing it was an absolute struggle. I was tempted to just quit at one point, I admit. But I'm so glad to finally see my brainchild completed.
> 
> Also, as far as I know, Motomi's wife and son's name are never mentioned in canon, so I made up names for them. If they are mentioned somewhere in canon that I'm unaware of, do let me know.
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone that has read and enjoyed this story, especially those of you who have been following since the beginning. Your comments and encouragement are all so wonderful =)
> 
> My love for this ship is still going strong, so please, send me drabble prompts if you have any! Particularly, some that relate to this AU would be great! I am nowhere near done writing MotoAki fics!


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